ARID) 


U 


Garden  of  a  Commuter's 


** 


Plans  and  Planting 
Cbnonitlee 

Community  Arts  Association 


THE   GARDEN,   YOU,   AND    I 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN. 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


BY 

BARBARA 

AUTHOR  OF 

THE  GARDEN  OF  A  COMMUTER'S  WIFE,"  "PEOPLE  OF 

THE  WHIRLPOOL,"  "  AT  THE  SIGN  OF  THE 

FOX,"  ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON  :   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 

1906 
All  rights  reserved 


M 


COPYRIGHT,  1906, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  June,  1906. 


NortoooB  Press 

J.  S.  Cashing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


SDeaicateu 

TO 

J.  L.  G. 
I.  M.  T. 

AND 

A.  B.  P. 

THE    LITERARY   GARDENERS 
OF   REDDING 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WIND i 

II.  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  You,  AND  I    .        .        7 

III.  CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS        ...        .29 

IV.  THEIR  GARDEN  VACATION   .  48 
V.  ANNUALS  —  WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY         .        .      70 

VI.    THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE 92 

VII.     A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN     .        .        .        .        .117 

VIII.    A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE 155 

IX.    FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES         .        .183 

X.    FRANKNESS  —  GARDENING  AND  OTHERWISE          .    202 

LIST  OF  FLOWER  COMBINATIONS  FOR  THE  TABLE 

FROM  BARBARA'S  Garden  Boke         .        .        .     230 
XI.    A  SEASIDE  GARDEN      ......    233 

XII.    THE  TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS          .        .    246 

XIII.      LILIES   AND   THEIR   WHIMS 262 

XIV.    FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES      .        .        .281 

XV.    THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS     ....    305 
ix 


xii  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   PAGE 

A  BED  OF  JAPAN  PINKS 296 

SINGLE  AND  DOUBLE  PINKS 314 

"  THE   SILVER   MAPLE  BY   THE  LANE   GATE  "                   .            .  326 

"  A  CURTAIN  TO  THE  SIDE  PORCH  "         ....  328 

AN  IRIS  HEDGE 358 

DAPHNE  CNEORUM 360 

A  TERRIBLE  EXAMPLE 362 

"  THE  LOW   SNOW-COVERED   MEADOW "       .            .            .            .  372 

"  PUNCH  .  .  .  HAS  A  CACHE   UNDER   THE   SYRINGA  BUSHES "  374 


THE   GARDEN,   YOU,   AND    I 
I 

THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WIND 

"Out  of  the  veins  of  the  world  comes  the  blood  of  me; 
The  heart  that  beats  in  my  side  is  the  heart  of  the  sea; 
The  hills  have  known  me  of  old,  and  they  do  not  forget; 
Long  ago  was  I  friends  with  the  wind ;  I  am  friends  with  it  yet." 

—  GERALD  GOULD. 

WHENEVER  a  piece  of  the  land  is  to  be  set  apart  for  a 
garden,  two  mighty  rulers  must  be  consulted  as  to  the 
boundaries.  When  this  earth  child  is  born  and  flower 
garnished  for  the  christening,  the  same  two  must  be 
also  bidden  as  sponsors.  These  rulers  are  the  Sun  and 
the  Wind.  The  sun,  if  the  matter  in  hand  is  once 
fairly  spread  before  him  and  put  in  his  charge,  is  a 
faithful  guardian,  meeting  frankness  frankly  and  send- 
ing his  penetrating  and  vitalizing  messengers  through 
well-nigh  inviolable  shade.  But  of  the  wind,  who  shall 
answer  for  it  or  trust  it  ?  Do  we  really  ever  learn  all  of 
its  vagaries  and  impossible  possibilities? 

If  frankness  best  suits  the  sun,  diplomacy  must  be 


2  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

our  shield  of  defence  windward,  for  the  wind  is  not 
one  but  a  composite  of  many  moods,  and  to  lure  one  on, 
and  skilfully  but  not  insultingly  bar  out  another,  is  our 
portion.  To  shut  out  the  wind  of  summer,  the  bearer 
of  vitality,  the  uplifter  of  stifling  vapours,  the  disperser 
of  moulds,  would  indeed  be  an  error;  therefore,  the  great 
art  of  the  planters  of  a  garden  is  to  learn  the  ways  of 
the  wind  and  to  make  friends  with  it.  If  the  soil  is 
sodden  and  sour,  it  may  be  drained  and  sweetened; 
if  it  is  poor,  it  may  be  nourished;  but  when  all  this  is 
done,  if  the  garden  lies  where  the  winds  of  winter  and 
spring  in  passing  swiftly  to  and  fro  whet  their  steel- 
edged  tempers  upon  it,  what  avails? 

What  does  it  matter  if  violet  or  pansy  frames  are  set 
in  a  sunny  nook,  if  it  be  one  of  the  wind's  winter  play- 
grounds, where  he  drifts  the  snow  deep  for  his  pastime, 
so  that  after  each  storm  of  snow  or  sleet  a  serious  bit  of 
engineering  must  be  undergone  before  the  sashes  can 
be  lifted  and  the  plants  saved  from  dampness;  or  if 
the  daffodils  and  tulips  lie  well  bedded  all  the  winter 
through,  if,  when  the  sun  has  called  them  forth,  the 
winds  of  March  blight  their  sap-tender  foliage?  Yet 
the  lands  that  send  the  north  winds  also  send  us  the 
means  to  deter  them  —  the  cold-loving  evergreens,  low 
growing,  high  growing,  medium,  woven  dense  in  warp 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WIND  3 

and  woof,  to  be  windbreaks,  also  the  shrubs  of  tough, 
twisted  fibre  and  stubborn  thorns  lying  close  to  the 
earth  for  windbuffers. 

Therefore,  before  the  planting  of  rose  or  hardy  herbs, 
bulbs  or  tenderer  flowers,  go  out,  compass  in  hand,  face 
the  four  quarters  of  heaven,  and,  considering  well,  set 
your  windbreaks  of  sweeping  hemlocks,  pines,  spruces, 
not  in  fortress-like  walls  barring  all  the  horizon,  but  in 
alternate  groups  that  flank,  without  appearing  to  do  so 
heavily,  the  north  and  northwest.  Even  a  barberry 
hedge  on  two  sides  of  a  garden,  wedge  point  to  north, 
like  the  wild-goose  squadrons  of  springtime,  will 
make  that  spot  an  oasis  in  the  winter  valley  of 
death. 

A  wise  gardener  it  is  who  thinks  of  the  winter  in 
springtime  and  plants  for  it  as  surely  as  he  thinks  of 
spring  in  the  winter  season  and  longs  for  it !  If,  in  the 
many  ways  by  which  the  affairs  of  daily  life  are  re- 
enforced,  the  saying  is  true  that  "  forethought  is  coin  in 
the  pocket,  quiet  in  the  brain,  and  content  in  the  heart," 
doubly  does  it  apply  to  the  pleasures  of  living,  of  which 
the  outdoor  life  of  working  side  by  side  with  nature, 
called  gardening,  is  one  of  the  chief.  When  a  garden  is 
inherited,  the  traditions  of  the  soil  or  reverence  for  those 
who  planned  and  toiled  in  it  may  make  one  blind  to 


4  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

certain  defects  in  its  conception,  and  beginning  with  a 
priori  set  by  another  one  does  as  one  can. 

But  in  those  choosing  site,  and  breaking  soil  for  them- 
selves, inconsistency  is  inexcusable.  Follow  the  lay 
of  the  land  and  let  it  lead.  Nature  does  not  attempt 
placid  lowland  pictures  on  a  steep  hillside,  nor  dramatic 
landscape  effects  in  a  horizonless  meadow,  therefore 
why  should  you  ?  For  one  great  garden  principle  you 
will  learn  from  nature's  close  companionship  —  con- 
sistency ! 

You  who  have  a  bit  of  abrupt  hillside  of  im- 
poverished soil,  yet  where  the  sky-line  is  divided  in  a 
picture  of  many  panels  by  the  trees,  you  should  not  try 
to  perch  thereon  a  prim  Dutch  garden  of  formal  lines ; 
neither  should  you,  to  whom  a  portion  of  fertile  level 
plain  has  fallen,  seek  to  make  it  picturesque  by  a  tor- 
tuous maze  of  walks,  curving  about  nothing  in  particular 
and  leading  nowhere,  for  of  such  is  not  nature.  Either 
situation  will  develop  the  skill,  though  in  different  direc- 
tions, and  do  not  forget  that  in  spite  of  better  soil  it 
takes  greater  individuality  to  make  a  truly  good  and 
harmonious  garden  on  the  flat  than  on  the  rolling 
ground. 

I  always  tremble  for  the  lowlander  who,  down  in  the 
depth  of  his  nature,  has  a  prenatal  hankering  for  rocks, 


THE  WAYS  OF  THE  WIND  5 

because  he  is  apt  to  build  an  undigested  rockery! 
These  sort  of  rockeries  are  wholly  separate  from  the 
rock  gardens,  often  majestic,  that  nowadays  supplement 
a  bit  of  natural  rocky  woodland,  bringing  it  within  the 
garden  pale.  The  awful  rockery  of  the  flat  garden  is 
like  unto  a  nest  of  prehistoric  eggs  that  have  been  turned 
to  stone,  from  the  interstices  of  which  a  few  wan  vines 
and  ferns  protrude  somewhat,  suggesting  the  garnishing 
for  an  omelet. 

Also,  if  you  follow  Nature  and  study  her  devices,  you 
will  alone  learn  the  ways  of  the  winds  and  how  to  pre- 
pare for  them.  Where  does  Spring  set  her  first  flag 
of  truce  —  out  in  the  windswept  open  ? 

No !  the  arbutus  and  hepatica  lie  bedded  not  alone  in 
the  fallen  leaves  of  the  forest  but  amid  their  own  endur- 
ing foliage.  The  skunk  cabbage  raises  his  hooded  head 
first  in  sheltered  hollows.  The  marsh  marigold  lies  in 
the  protection  of  bog  tussocks  and  stream  banks.  The 
first  bloodroot  is  always  found  at  the  foot  of  some 
natural  windbreak,  while  the  shad-bush,  that  ventures 
farther  afield  and  higher  in  air  than  any,  is  usually  set 
in  a  protecting  hedge,  like  his  golden  forerunner  the 
spice-bush. 

If  Nature  looks  to  the  ways  of  the  wind  when  she 
plants,  why  should  not  we?  A  bed  of  the  hardiest 


6  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

roses  set  on  a  hill  crest  is  a  folly.  Much  more  likely 
would  they  be  to  thrive  wholly  on  the  north  side  of  it. 
A  garden  set  in  a  cut  between  hills  that  form  a  natural 
blowpipe  can  at  best  do  no  more  than  hold  its  own, 
without  advancing. 

But  there  are  some  things  that  belong  to  the 
never-never  land  and  may  not  be  done  here.  You 
may  plant  roses  and  carnations  in  the  shade  or  in 
dry  sea  sand,  but  they  will  not  thrive ;  you  cannot  keep 
upland  lilies  cheerful  with  their  feet  in  wet  clay;  you 
cannot  have  a  garden  all  the  year  in  our  northern  lati- 
tudes, for  nature  does  not;  and  you  cannot  afford  to 
ignore  the  ways  of  the  wind,  for  according  as  it  is  kind 
or  cruel  does  it  mean  garden  life  or  death ! 

"  Men,  they  say,  know  many  things ; 
But  lo,  they  have  taken  wings,  — 
The  arts  and  sciences, 

And  a  thousand  appliances; 
The  wind  that  blows 

Is  all  that  anybody  knows.  " 

—  THOREAU. 


II 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

April  30.  Gray  dawn,  into  which  father  and  Evan 
vanished  with  their  fishing  rods ;  then  sunrise,  curtained 
by  a  slant  of  rain,  during  which  the  birds  sang  on  with 
undamped  ardour,  a  catbird  making  his  de"but  for  the 
season  as  soloist. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  I  was  up  and  out  at  dawn. 
At  twenty  I  did  so  frequently,  at  thirty  sometimes, 
now  at  thirty-five  I  can  do  it  perfectly  well,  if  necessary, 
otherwise,  save  at  the  change  of  seasons,  to  keep  in 
touch  with  earth  and  sky,  I  raise  myself  comfortably, 
elbow  on  pillow,  and  through  the  window  scan  garden, 
wild  walk,  and  the  old  orchard  at  leisure,  and  then  let 
my  arm  slip  and  the  impression  deepen  through  the 
magic  of  one  more  chance  for  dreams. 

9  o'clock.  The  warm  throb  of  spring  in  the  earth, 
rising  in  a  potent  mist,  sap  pervaded  and  tangible, 
having  a  clinging,  unctuous  softness  like  the  touch  of 
unfolding  beech  leaves,  lured  me  out  to  finish  the  trans- 
planting of  the  pansies  among  the  hardy  roses,  while  the 
first  brown  thrasher,  high  in  the  bare  top  of  an  ash, 
7 


8  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

eyes  fixed  on  the  sky,  proclaimed  with  many  turns  and 
changes  the  exact  spot  where  he  did  not  intend  to 
locate  his  nest.  This  is  an  early  spring,  of  a  truth. 

Presently  pale  sunbeams  thread  the  mist,  gathering 
colour  as  they  filter  through  the  pollen-meshed  catkins 
of  the  black  birches ;  an  oriole  bugling  in  the  Yulan 
magnolias  below  at  the  road-bend,  fire  amid  snow;  a 
high-hole  laughing  his  courtship  in  the  old  orchard. 

Then  Lavinia  Cortright  coming  up  to  exchange 
Dahlia  bulbs  and  discuss  annuals  and  aster  bugs.  She 
and  Martin  browse  about  the  country,  visiting  from 
door  to  door  like  veritable  natives,  while  their  garden, 
at  first  so  prim  and  genteel,  like  one  of  Lavinia's  own 
frocks,  has  broken  bounds  and  taken  on  brocade, 
embroidery,  and  all  sorts  of  lace  frills,  overflowed  the 
south  meadow,  and  only  pauses  at  the  stile  in  the  wall 
of  our  old  crab-apple  orchard,  rivalling  in  beauty  and 
refined  attraction  any  garden  at  the  Bluffs.  Martin's 
purse  is  fuller  than  of  yore,  owing  to  the  rise  in  Whirl- 
pool real  estate,  and  nothing  is  too  good  for  Lavinia's 
garden.  Even  more,  he  has  of  late  let  the  dust  rest 
peacefully  on  human  genealogy  and  is  collecting  quaint 
garden  books  and  herbals,  flower  catalogues  and  lists, 
with  the  solemn  intent  of  writing  a  book  on  Historic 
Flowers.  At  least  so  he  declares ;  but  when  Lavinia  is 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     9 

in  the  garden,  there  too  is  Martin.  To-day,  however, 
he  joined  my  men  before  noon  at  the  lower  brook. 
Fancy  a  house-reared  man  a  convert  to  fishing  when 
past  threescore!  Evan  insists  that  it  is  because,  be- 
ing above  all  things  consistent,  he  wishes  to  appear  at 
home  in  the  company  of  father's  cherished  collection  of 
Walton's  and  other  fishing  books.  Father  says, 
"Nonsense !  no  man  can  help  liking  to  fish !" 

Toward  evening  came  home  a  creel  lined  with  bog 
moss ;  within,  a  rainbow  glimmer  of  brook  trout,  a  posy 
of  shad-bush,  marsh  marigolds,  anemones,  and  rosy 
spring  beauties  from  the  river  woods,  —  with  three 
cheerfully  tired  men,  who  gathered  by  the  den  hearth 
fire  with  coffee  cup  and  pipe,  inside  an  admiring  but 
sleepy  circle  of  beagle  hounds,  who  had  run  free  the 
livelong  day  and  who  could  doubtless  impart  the  latest 
rabbit  news  with  thrilling  detail.  All  this  and  much 
more  made  up  to-day,  one  of  red  letters. 

Yesterday,  Monday,  was  quite  different,  and  if  not 
absolutely  black,  was  decidedly  slate  coloured.  It  is  only 
when  some  one  of  the  household  is  positively  ill  that 
the  record  must  be  set  down  in  black  characters,  for 
what  else  really  counts?  Why  is  it  that  the  city  folk 
persist  in  judging  all  rural  days  alike,  that  is  until  they 
have  once  really  lived  in  the  country,  not  merely  boarded 


io  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  tried  to  kill  time  and  their  own  digestions  at  one 
and  the  same  moment. 

Such  exceptional  days  as  yesterday  should  only  be 
chronicled  now  and  then  to  give  an  added  halo  to  happy 
to-morrows,  —  disagreeables  are  remembered  quite 
long  enough  by  perverse  human  nature. 

Yesterday  began  with  the  pipe  from  the  water-back 
bursting,  thereby  doing  away  with  hot  water  for  shaving 
and  the  range  fire  at  the  same  time.  The  coffee  resented 
hurry,  and  the  contact  with  an  oil  stove  developed  the 
peanutty  side  of  its  disposition,  something  that  is  latent 
in  the  best  and  most  equable  of  brands. 

The  spring  timetable  having  changed  at  midnight 
Sunday,  unobserved  by  Evan,  he  missed  the  early  train, 
which  it  was  especially  important  that  he  should  take. 
Three  other  men  found  themselves  in  the  same  pre- 
dicament, two  being  Bluffers  and  one  a  Plotter.  (These 
are  the  names  given  hereabout  to  our  two  colonies  of 
non-natives.  The  Bluffers  are  the  people  of  the  Bluffs, 
who  always  drive  to  the  station ;  the  Plotters,  living  on  a 
pretty  tract  of  land  near  the  village  that  was  "plotted" 
into  house-lots  a  few  years  ago,  have  the  usual  new- 
comer's hallucination  about  making  money  from  raising 
chickens,  and  always  walk.) 

After  a  hasty  consultation,  one  of  the  Bluffers  tele- 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I    n 

phoned  for  his  automobile  and  invited  the  others  to 
make  the  trip  to  town  with  him.  In  order  to  reach  the 
north  turnpike  that  runs  fairly  straight  to  the  city,  the 
chauffeur,  a  novice  in  local  byways,  proposed  to  take  a 
short  cut  through  our  wood  road,  instead  of  wheeling 
into  the  pike  below  Wakeleigh. 

This  wood  road  holds  the  frost  very  late,  in  spite  of  an 
innocent  appearance  to  the  contrary;  this  fact  Evan 
stated  tersely.  Would  a  chauffeur  of  the  Bluffs  listen 
to  advice  from  a  man  living  halfway  down  the  hill,  who 
not  only  was  autoless  but  frequently  walked  to  the 
station,  and  therefore  to  be  classed  with  the  Plotters? 
Certainly  not;  while  at  the  same  moment  the  owner  of 
the  car  decided  the  matter  by  pulling  out  his  watch  and 
murmuring  to  his  neighbour  something  about  an  im- 
portant committee  meeting,  and  it  being  the  one  day  in 
the  month  when  time  meant  money! 

Into  the  road  they  plunged,  and  after  several  hair- 
breadth lurches,  for  the  cut  is  deep  and  in  places  the 
rocks  parallel  with  the  roadway,  the  turnpike  was  visible ; 
then  a  sudden  jolt,  a  sort  of  groan  from  the  motor,  and  it 
ceased  to  breathe,  the  heavy  wheels  having  settled  in  a 
treacherous  spot  not  wholly  free  from  frost,  its  great 
stomach,  or  whatever  they  call  the  part  that  holds  its 
insides,  wallowed  hopelessly  in  the  mud ! 


12  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

The  gentlemen  from  the  Bluffs  deciding  that,  after  all, 
there  was  no  real  need  of  going  to  town,  as  they  had  only 
moved  into  the  country  the  week  previous,  and  the  auto 
owner  challenged  to  a  game  of  billiards  by  his  friend, 
they  returned  home,  while  the  Plotter  and  Evan  walked 
back  two  miles  to  the  depot  and  caught  the  third  train ! 

At  home  things  still  sizzled.  Father  had  an  important 
consultation  at  the  hospital  at  ten;  ringing  the  stable 
call  for  the  horses,  he  found  that  Tim,  evidently  for- 
getting the  hour,  had  taken  them,  Evan's  also  being  of 
the  trio,  to  the  shoer  half  an  hour  before.  There  was  a 
moment's  consternation  and  Bertel  left  the  digging  over 
of  my  hardy  beds  to  speed  down  to  the  village  on  his 
bicycle,  and  when  the  stanhope  finally  came  up,  father 
was  as  nearly  irritable  as  I  have  ever  seen  him,  while 
Tim  Saunders's  eyes  looked  extra  small  and  pointed. 
Evidently  Bertel  had  said  things  on  his  own  account, 

Was  an  explosion  coming  at  last  to  end  twelve  years  of 
out-of-door  peace,  also  involving  my  neighbour  and 
domestic  standby,  Martha  Corkle  Saunders? 

No ;  the  two  elderly  men  glanced  at  each  other ;  there 
was  nothing  of  the  domineering  or  resentful  attitude 
that  so  often  renders  difficult  the  relation  of  master  and 
man  —  "I  must  be  getting  old  and  forgetful,"  quoth 
father,  stepping  into  the  gig. 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     13 

"Nae,  it's  mair  like  I'm  growin'  deef  in  the  nigh 
ear,"  said  Tim,  and  without  further  argument  they  drove 
away. . 

I  was  still  pondering  upon  the  real  inwardness  of  the 
matter,  when  the  boys  came  home  to  luncheon.  Two 
hungry,  happy  boys  are  a  tonic  at  any  time,  and  for  a 
time  I  buttered  bread  —  though  alack,  the  real  necessity 
for  so  doing  has  long  since  passed  —  when,  on  explain- 
ing father's  absence  from  the  meal,  Ian  said  abruptly, 
"Jinks!  grandpa's  gone  the  day  before!  he  told  Tim 
Tuesday  at  'leven,  I  heard  him!" 

But,  as  it  chanced,  it  was  a  slip  of  tongue,  not  memory, 
and  I  blessed  Timothy  Saunders  for  his  Scotch  for- 
bearance, which  Evan  insists  upon  calling  prudence. 

My  own  time  of  trial  came  in  the  early  afternoon. 
During  the  more  than  ten  years  that  I  have  been  a  gar- 
dener on  my  own  account,  I  have  naturally  tried  many 
experiments  and  have  gradually  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  is  a  mistake  to  grow  too  many  species  of  flowers, 
—  better  to  have  more  of  a  kind  and  thus  avoid  spinki- 
ness.  The  pink  family  in  general  is  one  of  those  that 
has  stood  the  test,  and  this  year  a  cousin  of  Evan's  sent 
me  over  a  quantity  of  Margaret  carnation  seed  from  prize 
stock,  together  with  that  of  some  exhibition  single 
Dahlias. 


i4  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Late  in  February  I  sowed  the  seed  in  two  of  the  most 
protected  hotbeds,  muffled  them  in  mats  and  old 
carpets  every  night,  almost  turned  myself  into  a  patent 
ventilator  in  order  to  give  the  carnations  enough  air 
during  that  critical  teething  period  of  pinks,  when  the 
first  grasslike  leaves  emerge  from  the  oval  seed  leaves 
and  the  little  plants  are  apt  to  weaken  at  the  ground 
level,  damp  off,  and  disappear,  thinned  them  out  with 
the  greatest  care,  and  had  (day  before  yesterday)  full 
five  hundred  lusty  little  plants,  ready  to  go  out  into  the 
deeply  dug  cool  bed  and  there  wax  strong  according 
to  the  need  of  pinks  before  summer  heat  gains  the  upper 
hand. 

The  Dahlias  had  also  thriven,  but  then  they  are  less 
particular,  and  if  they  live  well  will  put  up  with  more 
snubs  than  will  a  carnation. 

Weather  and  Bertel  being  propitious,  I  prepared  to 
plant  out  my  pets,  though  of  course  they  must  be  shel- 
tered of  nights  for  another  half  month.  As  I  was  about 
to  remove  one  of  the  props  that  held  the  sash  aloft,  to 
let  in  air  to  the  Dahlias,  and  still  constitute  it  a  wind- 
break, I  heard  a  violent  whistling  in  our  grass  road 
north  of  the  barn  that  divides  the  home  acres  from  the 
upper  pastures  and  Martha's  chicken  farm.  At  first 
I  thought  but  little  of  it,  as  many  people  use  it  as  a 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I      15 

short  cut  from  the  back  road  from  the  Bluffs  down  to 
the  village.  Soon  a  shout  came  from  the  same  direction, 
and  going  toward  the  wall,  I  saw  Mr.  Vandeveer  strug- 
gling along,  his  great  St.  Bernard  Jupiter,  prize  winner 
in  a  recent  show  and  but  lately  released  from  winter 
confinement,  bounding  around  and  over  him  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  spruce  New  Yorker,  who  had  the 
reputation  of  always  being  on  dress  parade  from  the  mo- 
ment that  he  left  bed  until  he  returned  to  it  in  hand- 
embroidered  pink  silk  pajamas,  was  not  only  covered  with 
abundant  April  mud,but  could  hardly  keep  his  footing. 

At  the  moment  I  spied  the  pair,  a  great  brindled  cat, 
who  sometimes  ventures  on  the  place,  in  spite  of  all  the 
attentions  paid  her  by  the  beagles,  and  who  had  been 
watching  sparrows  in  the  barnyard,  sprang  to  the  wall. 
Zip !  There  was  a  rush,  a  snarl,  a  hiss,  and  a  smash ! 
Dog  and  what  had  been  cat  crashed  through  the  sash 
of  my  Dahlia  frame,  and  in  the  rebound  ploughed  into 
the  soft  earth  that  held  the  carnatio'ns. 

The  next  minute  Mr.  Vandeveer  absolutely  leaped 
over  the  wall,  and  seeing  the  dog,  apparently  in  the  midst 
of  the  broken  glass,  turned  almost  apoplectic,  shouting, 
"Ah,  his  legs  will  be  cut;  he'll  be  ruined,  and  Julie  will 
never  forgive  me !  He's  her  best  dog  and  cost  $3000 
spot  cash !  Get  him  out,  somebody,  why  don't  you  ? 


16  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

What  business  have  people  to  put  such  dangerous  sky- 
lights near  a  public  road?" 

Meanwhile,  as  wrath  arose  in  my  throat  and  formed 
ugly  words,  Jupiter,  a  great  friend  of  ours,  who  has  had 
more  comfortable  meals  in  our  kitchen  during  the  winter 
than  the  careless  kennel  men  would  have  wished  to  be 
known,  sprang  toward  me  with  well-meant,  if  rough, 
caresses,  —  evidently  the  few  scratches  he  had  amounted 
to  nothing.  I  forgave  him  the  cat  cheerfully,  but  my 
poor  carnations !  They  do  not  belong  to  the  grovelling 
tribe  of  herbs  that  bend  and  refuse  to  break  like  portu- 
laca,  chickweed,  and  pusley  the  accursed.  Fortunately, 
just  then,  a  scene  of  the  past  year,  which  had  come  to  me 
by  report,  floated  across  my  vision.  Our  young  hounds, 
Bob  and  Pete,  in  the  heat  of  undisciplined  rat-catching 
(for  these  dogs  when  young  and  unbroken  will  chase 
anything  that  runs),  completely  undermined  the  Van- 
deveers'  mushroom  bed,  the  door  of  the  pit  having  been 
left  open  ! 

When  Mr.  Vandeveer  recovered  himself,  he  began 
profuse  apologies.  Would  "send  the  glazier  down 
immediately"  —  "so  sorry  to  spoil  such  lovely  young 
onions  and  spinach!" 

"  What !  not  early  vegetables,  but  flowers  ?  "  Oh,  then 
he  should  not  feel  so  badly.  Really,  he  had  quite  for- 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     17 

gotten  himself,  but  the  truth  was  Julie  thought  more  of 
her  dogs  and  horses  than  even  of  himself,  he  sometimes 
thought,  —  almost,  but  not  quite;  "ha!  ha!  really, 
don't  you  know !"  While,  judging  by  the  comparative 
behaviour  of  dog  and  man,  the  balance  was  decidedly 
in  favour  of  Jupiter.  But  you  see  I  never  like  men  who 
dress  like  ladies,  I  had  lost  my  young  plants,  and  I  love 
dogs  from  mongrel  all  up  the  ladder  (lap  dogs  excepted), 
so  I  may  be  prejudiced. 

After  Bertel  had  .carefully  removed  the  splintered 
glass  from  the  earth,  so  that  I  could  take  account  of 
my  damaged  stock,  about  half  seemed  to  be  redeem- 
able ;  but  even  those  poor  seedlings  looked  like  soldiers 
after  battle,  a  limb  gone  here  and  an  eye  missing  there. 

At  supper  father,  Evan,  and  I  were  silent  and  cere- 
moniously polite,  neither  referring  to  the  day's  disasters, 
and  I  could  see  that  the  boys  were  regarding  us  with 
open-eyed  wonder.  When  the  meal  was  almost  finished, 
the  bell  of  the  front  door  rang  and  Effie  returned,  bearing 
a  large,  ornamental  basket,  almost  of  the  proportions  of 
a  hamper,  with  a  card  fastened  conspicuously  to  the 
handle,  upon  which  was  printed  "With  apologies  from 
Jupiter!"  Inside  was  a  daintily  arranged  assortment 
of  hothouse  vegetables,  —  cucumbers,  tomatoes,  egg- 
plant eggs,  artichokes,  —  with  a  separate  basket  in  one 


i8  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

corner  brimming  with  strawberries,  and  in  the  other  a 
pink  tissue-paper  parcel,  tied  with  ribbon,  containing 
mushrooms,  proving  that,  after  all,  fussy  Mr.  Vandeveer 
has  the  saving  grace  of  humour. 

My  righteous  garden-indignation  dwindled;  laughter 
caught  me  by  the  throat  and  quenched  the  remainder. 
Evan,  knowing  nothing  of  the  concatenation,  but  scent- 
ing something  from  the  card,  joined  sympathetically. 
Glancing  at  father,  I  saw  that  his  nose  was  twitching,  and 
in  a  moment  his  shoulders  began  to  shake  and  he  led  the 
general  confession  that  followed.  It  seems  that  he 
arrived  at  the  hospital  really  the  day  of  the  consultation, 
but  found  that  the  patient,  in  need  of  surgical  care,  had 
been  seized  with  nervous  panic  and  gone  home ! 

After  such  a  thoroughly  vulgar  day  there  is  really 
nothing  to  do  but  laugh  and  plan  something  pleasant  for 
to-morrow,  unless  you  prefer  crying,  which,  though 
frequently  a  relief  to  the  spirit,  is  particularly  bad  for 
eye  wrinkles  in  the  middle-aged. 

May-day.  I  always  take  this  as  a  holiday,  and  give 
myself  up  to  any  sort  of  outdoor  folly  that  comes  into 
my  head.  There  is  nothing  more  rejuvenating  than  to 
let  one's  self  thoroughly  go  now  and  then. 

Then,  besides,  to  an  American,  May-day  is  usually  a 
surprise  in  itself.  You  never  can  tell  what  it  will  bring, 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     19 

for  it  is  by  no  means  the  amiable  and  guileless  child  of 
the  poets,  breathing  perfumed  south  wind  and  followed 
by  young  lambs  through  meadows  knee  deep  in  grass 
and  flowers. 

In  the  course  of  fifteen  years  I  have  seen  four  May-days 
when  there  was  enough  grass  to  blow  in  the  wind  and 
frost  had  wholly  left  for  the  season ;  to  balance  this  there 
have  been  two  brief  snow  squalls,  three  deluges  that 
washed  even  big  beans  out  of  ground,  and  a  scorching 
drought  that  reduced  the  brooks,  unsheltered  by 
leafage,  to  August  shallowness.  But  to-day  has  been 
entirely  lovable  and  full  of  the  promise  that  after  all 
makes  May  the  garden  month  of  the  year,  the  time  of 
perfect  faith,  hope,  and  charity  when  we  may  believe 
all  things! 

This  morning  I  took  a  stroll  in  the  woods,  partly  to 
please  the  dogs,  for  though  they  always  run  free,  they 
smile  and  wag  furiously  when  they  see  the  symptoms 
that  tell  that  I  am  going  beyond  the  garden.  What  a 
difference  there  is  between  the  north  and  south  side  of 
things !  On  the  south  slope  the  hepaticas  have  gone  and 
the  columbines  show  a  trace  of  red  blood,  while  on  the 
north,  one  is  in  perfection  and  the  other  only  as  yet 
making  leaves.  This  is  a  point  to  be  remembered  in  the 
garden,  by  which  the  season  of  blooming  can  be  length- 


20  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ened  for  almost  all  plants  that  do  not  demand  full, 
unalloyed  sun,  like  the  rose  and  pink  families. 

Every  year  I  am  more  and  more  surprised  at  the  hints 
that  can  be  carried  from  the  wild  to  the  cultivated. 
For  instance,  the  local  soil  in  which  the  native  plants  of 
a  given  family  flourish  is  almost  always  sure  to  agree 
better  with  its  cultivated,  and  perhaps  tropical,  cousin 
than  the  most  elaborately  and  scientifically  prepared 
compost.  This  is  a  matter  that  both  simplifies  and 
guarantees  better  success  to  the  woman  who  is  her  own 
gardener  and  lives  in  a  country  sufficiently  open  for  her 
to  be  able  to  collect  soil  of  various  qualities  for  special 
purposes.  Lilies  were  always  a  very  uncertain  quantity 
with  me,  until  the  idea  occurred  of  filling  my  bed  with 
earth  from  a  meadow  edge  where  Lilium  Canadense, 
year  after  year,  mounted  her  chimes  of  gold  and  copper 
bells  on  leafy  standards  often  four  feet  high. 

We  may  read  and  listen  to  cultural  ways  and  methods, 
but  when  all  is  said  and  done,  one  who  has  not  a  fat  purse 
for  experiments  and  failures  must  live  the  outdoor  life 
of  her  own  locality  to  get  the  best  results  in  the  garden. 

Then  to  have  a  woman  friend  to  compare  notes  with 
and  prove  rules  by  is  a  comforting  necessity.  No  liv- 
ing being  can  say  positively,  "I  will  do  so  and  so ;  "  or 
"  I  know,"  when  coming  in  contact  with  the  wise  old  earth ! 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     21 

Lavinia  Cortright  has  only  had  a  garden  for  half  a 
dozen  summers,  and  consults  me  as  a  veteran,  yet  I'm 
discovering  quite  as  much  from  her  experiments  as  she 
from  mine.  Last  winter,  when  seed-catalogue  time  came 
round,  and  we  met  daily  and  scorched  our  shoes  before 
the  fire,  drinking  a  great  deal  too  much  tea  in  the  ex- 
citement of  making  out  our  lists,  we  resolved  to  form  a 
horticulture  society  of  only  three  members,  of  which 
she  elected  me  the  recording  secretary,  to  be  called 
"The  Garden,  You,  and  I." 

We  expect  to  have  a  variety  of  experiences  this 
season,  and  frequent  meetings  both  actual  and  by  pen, 
for  Lavinia,  in  combination  with  Horace  and  Sylvia 
Bradford,  last  year  built  a  tiny  shore  cottage,  three 
miles  up  the  coast,  at  Gray  Rocks,  where  they  are  go- 
ing for  alternate  weeks  or  days  as  the  mood  seizes 
them,  and  they  mean  to  try  experiments  with 
real  seashore  gardening,  while  Evan  proposes  that  we 
should  combine  pleasure  with  business  in  a  way  to 
make  frequent  vacations  possible  and  take  driving  trips 
together  to  many  lovely  gardens  both  large  and  small, 
to  our  mutual  benefit,  his  eyes  being  open  to  construc- 
tion and  landscape  effect,  and  mine  to  the  soul  of  the 
garden,  as  it  were ;  for  he  is  pleased  to  say  that  a  woman 
can  grasp  and  translate  this  more  easily  and  fully  than 


22  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

a  man.  What  if  the  records  of  The  Garden,  You,  and  I 
should  turn  into  a  real  book,  an  humble  shadow  of  "Six 
of  Spades"  of  jovial  memory !  Is  it  possible  that  I  am 
about  to  be  seized  with  Agamemnon  Peterkin's  ambition 
to  write  a  book  to  make  the  world  wise  ?  Alas,  poor 
Agamemnon  !  When  he  had  searched  the  woods  for  an 
oak  gall  to  make  ink,  gone  to  the  post-office,  after  hours, 
to  buy  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  caused  a  commotion  in 
the  neighbourhood  and  rumour  of  thieves  by  going  to 
the  poultry  yard  with  a  lantern  to  pluck  a  fresh  goose 
quill  for  a  pen,  he  found  that  he  had  nothing  to  say, 
and  paused  —  thereby,  at  least,  proving  his  own  wisdom. 

I'm  afraid  I  ramble  too  much  to  be  a  good  recording 
secretary,  but  this  habit  belongs  to  my  very  own  garden 
books  that  no  critical  eyes  can  see.  That  reminds  me ! 
Father  says  that  he  met  Bartram  Penrose  in  town  last 
week  and  that  he  seemed  rather  nervous  and  tired,  and 
worried  about  nothing,  and  wanted  advice.  After  look- 
ing him  over  a  bit,  father  told  him  that  all  he  needed  was  a 
long  vacation  from  keeping  train,  as  well  as  many  other 
kindsof  time,  for  it  seems  during  the  six  years  of  his  mar- 
riage he  has  had  no  real  vacation  but  his  honeymoon. 

Mary  Penrose's  mother,  my  mother,  and  Lavinia 
Cortright  were  all  school  friends  together,  and  since 
Mary  married  Bartram  and  moved  to  Woodridge  we've 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     23 

exchanged  many  little  visits,  for  our  husbands  agree,  and 
now  that  she  has  time  she  is  becoming  an  enthusiastic 
gardener,  after  my  own  heart,  having  last  season  become 
convinced  of  the  ugliness  of  cannas  and  coleus  beds  about 
a  restored  colonial  farmhouse.  Why  might  they  not  join 
us  on  our  driving  trips,  by  way  of  their  vacation  ? 

Immediately  I  started  to  telephone  the  invitation, 
and  then  paused.  I  will  write  instead.  Mary  Penrose 
is  on  the  long-distance  line,  —  toll  thirty  cents  in  the 
daytime!  In  spring  I  am  very  stingy;  thirty  cents 
means  six  papers  of  flower  seeds,  or  three  heliotropes. 
Whereas  in  winter  it  is  simply  thirty  cents,  and  it  must  be 
a  very  vapid  conversation  indeed  that  is  not  worth  so 
much  on  a  dark  winter  day  of  the  quality  when  neither 
driving  nor  walking  is  pleasant,  and  if  you  get  sufficiently 
close  to  the  window  to  see  to  read,  you  develop  a  stiff 
neck.  Also,  the  difficulty  is  that  thirty  cents  is  only  the 
beginning  of  a  conversation  betwixt  Mary  Penrose  and 
myself,  for  whoever  begins  it  usually  has  to  pay  for 
overtime,  which  provokes  quarterly  discussion.  Is  it 
not  strange  that  very  generous  men  often  have  such 
serious  objections  to  the  long-distance  tails  to  their 
telephone  bills,  and  insist  upon  investigating  them  with 
vigour,  when  they  pay  a  speculator  an  extra  dollar  for  a 
theatre  ticket  without  a  murmur?  They  must  remem- 


24  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

her  that  telephones,  whatever  may  be  said  to  the  con- 
trary, are  one  of  the  modern  aids  to  domesticity  and 
preventives  of  gadding,  while  still  keeping  one  not  only 
in  touch  with  a  friend  but  within  range  of  the  voice. 
Surely  there  can  be  no  woman  so  self-sufficient  that  she 
does  not  in  silent  moments  yearn  for  a  spoken  word  with 
one  of  her  kind. 

When  I  had  finished  sowing  my  first  planting  of 
mignonette  and  growled  at  the  prospective  labour  en- 
tailed by  thinning  out  the  fall- sown  Shirley  poppies 
(I  have  quite  resolved  to  plant  everything  in  the  vege- 
table-garden seed  beds  and  then  transplant  to  the 
flowering  beds  as  the  easier  task),  Lavinia  Cortright 
came  up,  note-book  in  hand,  inviting  herself  comfortably 
to  spend  the  day,  and  thoroughly  inspect  the  hardy  seed 
bed,  to  see  what  I  had  for  exchange,  as  well  as  perfect 
her  plan  of  starting  one  of  her  own. 

By  noon  the  sun  had  made  the  south  corner,  where 
the  Russian  violets  grow,  quite  warm  enough  to  make 
lunching  out-of-doors  possible,  and  promising  to  protect 
Lavinia's  rather  thinly  shod  feet  from  the  ground  with 
one  of  the  rubber  mats  whereon  I  kneel  when  I  trans- 
plant, she  consented  to  thus  celebrate  the  coming  of 
the  season  of  liberty,  doors  open  to  the  air  and  sun, 
the  soul  to  every  whisper  of  Heart  of  Nature  himself, 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     25 

the  steward  of  the  plan  and  eternal  messenger  of 
God. 

"Hard  is  the  heart  that  loveth  naught  in  May!" 
Yes,  so  hard  that  it  is  no  longer  flesh  and  blood,  for 
under  the  spell  of  renewal  every  grass  blade  has  new 
beauty,  every  trifle  becomes  of  importance,  and  the 
humble  song  sparrow  a  nightingale. 

The  stars  that  blazed  of  winter  nights  have  fallen  and 
turned  to  dandelions  in  the  grass;  the  Forsythias  are 
decked  in  gold,  a  colour  that  is  carried  up  and  down 
the  garden  borders  in  narcissus,  dwarf  tulips,  and  pan- 
sies,  peach  blossoms  giving  a  rosy  tinge  to  the  snow 
fall  of  cherry  bloom. 

To-day  there  are  two  catbirds,  Elle  et  Lui,  and  the 
first  Johnny  Wren  is  inspecting  the  particular  row  of 
cottages  that  top  the  long  screen  of  honeysuckles  back 
of  the  walk  named  by  Richard  Wren  Street.  Why  is 
the  song  sparrow  calling  "Dick,  Dick!"  so  lustily 
and  scratching  so  testily  in  the  leaves  that  have  drifted 
under  an  old  rose  shrub  ?  The  birds'  bath  and  drink- 
ing basin  is  still  empty ;  I  pour  out  the  libation  to  the 
day  by  filling  it. 

The  seed  bed  is  reached  at  last.  It  has  wintered  fairly 
well,  and  the  lines  of  plants  all  show  new  growth.  As 
I  started  to  point  out  and  explain,  Lavinia  Cortright 


26  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

began  to  jot  down  name  and  quantity,  and  then,  stop- 
ping, said :  "  No,  you  must  write  it  out  as  the  first  record 
for  The  Garden,  You,  and  I.  I  make  a  motion  to  that 
effect."  As  I  was  about  to  protest,  the  postman  brought 
some  letters,  one  being  from  Mary  Penrose,  to  whom 
Mrs.  Cortright  stands  as  aunt  by  courtesy.  I  opened 
it,  and  spreading  it  between  us  we  began  to  read,  so 
that  afterward  Lavinia  declared  that  her  motion  was 
passed  by  default. 

"WOODRIDGE,  April  30. 
"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  EVAN, 

"I  am  going  into  gardening  in  earnest  this  spring, 
and  I  want  you  and  Aunt  Lavinia  to  tell  me  things,  — 
things  that  you  have  done  yourselves  and  succeeded  or 
failed  in.  Especially  about  the  failures.  It  is  a  great 
mistake  for  garden  books  and  papers  to  insist  that  there 
is  no  such  word  in  horticulture  as  fail,  that  every  flower 
bed  can  be  kept  in  full  flower  six  months  of  the  year,  in 
addition  to  listing  things  that  will  bloom  outdoors  in 
winter  in  the  Middle  States,  and  give  all  floral  measure- 
ments as  if  seen  through  a  telephoto  lens.  It  makes 
one  feel  the  exceptional  fool.  It's  discouraging  and 
not  stimulating  in  the  least.  Doesn't  even  nature 
meet  with  disaster  once  in  a  while  as  if  by  way  of 


BOOK  OF  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I     27 

encouragement  to  us?  And  doesn't  nature's  garden 
have  on  and  off  seasons?  So  why  shouldn't  ours? 

"  There  is  a  quantity  of  Garden  Goozle  going  about 
nowadays  that  is  as  unbelievable,  and  quite  as  bad  for 
the  constitution  and  pocket,  as  the  guarantees  of  patent 
medicines.  No,  Garden  Goozle  is  not  my  word,  you  must 
understand;  it  was  invented  by  a  clever  professor  of 
agriculture,  whom  Bart  met  not  long  ago,  and  we  loved 
the  word  so  much  that  we  have  adopted  it.  The  mental 
quality  of  Garden  Goozle  seems  to  be  compounded  of 
summer  squash  and  milkweed  milk,  and  it  would  be 
quite  harmless  were  it  not  for  the  strong  catbriers  grafted 
in  the  mass  for  impaling  the  purses  of  the  trusting. 

"Ah,  if  we  only  lived  a  little  nearer  together,  near 
enough  to  talk  over  the  garden  fence !  It  seems  cruel 
to  ask  you  to  write  answers  to  all  my  questions,  but  after 
listing  the  hardy  plants  I  want  for  putting  the  garden  on 
a  consistent  old-time  footing,  I  find  the  amount  runs 
quite  to  the  impossible  three  figures,  aside  from  every- 
thing else  we  need,  so  I've  decided  on  beginning  with  a 
seed  bed,  and  I  want  to  know  before  we  locate  the  new 
asparagus  bed  how  much  ground  I  shall  need  for  a 
seed  bed,  what  and  how  to  plant,  and  everything  else ! 

"I  like  all  the  hardy  things  you  have,  especially  those 
that  are  mice,  lice,  and  water  proof!  If  you  will  send 


28  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

me  ever  so  rough  a  list,  I  shall  be  grateful.  Would  I 
better  begin  at  once  or  wait  until  July  or  August,  as 
some  of  the  catalogues  suggest? 

"  Bart  has  just  come  in  and  evidently  has  something 
on  his  mind  of  which  he  wishes  to  relieve  himself  via 
speech. 

"  Your  little  sister  of  the  garden, 

"  MARY  P." 

"She  must  join  The  Garden,  You,  and  I,  "  said  La- 
vinia  Cortright,  almost  before  I  had  finished  the  letter. 
"  She  will  be  entertainer  in  chief,  for  she  never  fails 
to  be  amusing !" 

"I  thought  there  were  to  be  but  three  members," 
I  protested,  thinking  of  the  possible  complications  of  a 
three-cornered  correspondence. 

"Ah,  well,"  Lavinia  Cortright  replied  quickly, 
"make  the  Garden  an  Honorary  member;  it  is  usual 
so  to  rank  people  of  importance  from  whom  much  is 
expected,  and  then  we  shall  still  be  but  three — with 
privilege  of  adding  your  husband  as  councillor  and 
mine  as  librarian  and  custodian  of  deeds!" 

So  I  have  promised  to  write  to  Mary  Penrose  this 
evening. 


m 

CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS 

9 
THE  SEED  BED   FOR  HARDY   FLOWERS 

WHEN  the  Cortrights  first  came  to  Oaklands,  ex- 
pecting to  remain  here  but  a  few  months  each  summery 
their  garden  consisted  of  some  borders  of  old-fash- 
ioned, hardy  flowers,  back  of  the  house.  These 
bounded  a  straight  walk  that,  beginning  at  the  porch, 
went  through  an  arched  grape  arbour,  divided  the 
vegetable  garden,  and  finally  ended  under  a  tree  in  the 
orchard  at  the  barrier  made  by  a  high-backed  green 
wooden  seat,  that  looked  as  if  it  might  have  been  a 
pew  taken  from  some  primitive  church  on  its  rebuilding. 

There  were,  at  intervals,  along  this  walk,  some  bushes 
of  lilacs,  bridal-wreath  spirea,  flowering  almond,  snow- 
ball, syringa,  and  scarlet  flowering  quince;  for  roses, 
Mme.  Plantier,  the  half  double  Boursault,  and  some 
great  clumps  of  the  little  cinnamon  rose  and  Harrison's 
yellow  brier,  whose  flat  opening  flowers  are  things  of  a 
day,  these  two  varieties  having  the  habit  of  travelling 

all  over  a  garden  by  means  of  their  root  suckers.    Here 
29 


30  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  there  were  groups  of  tiger  and  lemon  lilies  growing 
out  of  the  ragged  turf,  bunches  of  scarlet  bee  balm,  or 
Oswego  tea,  as  it  is  locally  called,  while  plantain  lilies, 
with  deeply  ribbed  heart-shaped  leaves,  catnip,  south- 
ernwood, and  mats  of  grass  pinks.  Single  hollyhocks 
of  a  few  colours  followed  the  fence  line;  tall  phlox  of 
two  colours,  white  and  a  dreary  dull  purple,  rambled 
into  the  grass  and  was  scattered  through  the  orchard, 
in  company  with  New  England  asters  and  various  golden 
rods  that  had  crept  up  from  the  waste  pasture- land  be- 
low; and  a  straggling  line  of  button  chrysanthemums, 
yellow,  white,  maroon,  and  a  sort  of  medicinal  rhubarb- 
pink,  had  backed  up  against  the  woodhouse  as  if  seeking 
shelter.  Lilies- of- the- valley  planted  in  the  shade  and 
consequently  anaemic  and  scant  of  bells,  blended  with 
the  blue  periwinkle  until  their  mingled  foliage  made  a 
great  shield  of  deep,  cool  green  that  glistened  against 
its  setting  of  faded,  untrimmed  grass. 

This  garden,  such  as  it  was,  could  be  truly  called 
hardy,  insomuch  as  all  the  care  it  had  received  for 
several  years  was  an  annual  cutting  of  the  longest 
grass.  The  fittest  had  survived,  and,  among  herbaceous 
things,  whatsoever  came  of  seed,  self-sown,  had  reverted 
nearly  to  the  original  type,  as  in  the  case  of  hollyhocks, 
phlox,  and  a  few  common  annuals.  The  long  grass, 


CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS          31 

topped  by  the  leaves  that  had  drifted  in  and  been  left 
undisturbed,  made  a  better  winter  blanket  than  many 
people  furnish  to  their  hardy  plants,  —  the  word  hardy 
as  applied  to  the  infinite  variety  of  modern  herbaceous 
plants  as  produced  by  selection  and  hybridization  not 
being  perfectly  understood. 

While  a  wise  selection  of  flowering  shrubs  and  truly 
hardy  roses  will,  if  properly  planted,  pruned,  and  fer- 
tilized, live  for  many  years,  certain  varieties  even  out- 
lasting more  than  one  human  generation,  the  modern 
hardy  perennial  and  biennial  of  many  species  and  sump- 
tuous effects  must  be  watched  and  treated  with  almost  as 
much  attention  as  the  so-called  bedding-plants  demand 
in  order  to  bring  about  the  best  results. 

The  common  idea,  fostered  by  inexperience,  and  also, 
I'm  sorry  to  say,  by  what  Mary  Penrose  dubs  Garden 
Goozle,  that  a  hardy  garden  once  planted  is  a  thing 
accomplished  for  life,  is  an  error  tending  to  bitter  dis- 
appointment. If  we  would  have  a  satisfactory  garden 
of  any  sort,  we  must  in  our  turn  follow  Nature,  who  never 
rests  in  her  processes,  never  even  sleeping  without  a 
purpose.  But  if  fairly  understood,  looked  squarely 
in  the  face,  and  treated  intelligently,  the  hardy  garden, 
supplemented  here  and  there  with  annual  flowers,  is 
more  than  worth  while  and  a  perpetual  source  of  joy. 


32  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

If  money  is  not  an  object  to  the  planter,  she  may  begin 
by  buying  plants  to  stock  her  beds,  always  remem- 
bering that  if  these  thrive,  they  must  be  thinned  out  or 
the  clumps  subdivided  every  few  years,  as  in  the  case 
of  hybrid  phloxes,  chrysanthemums,  etc.,  or  else  dug 
up  bodily  and  reset;  for  if  this  is  not  done,  smaller 
flowers  with  poorer  colours  will  be  the  result. 

The  foxglove,  one  of  the  easily  raised  and  very  hardy 
plants,  of  majestic  mien  and  great  landscape  value, 
will  go  on  growing  in  one  location  for  many  years ;  but 
if  you  watch  closely,  you  will  find  that  it  is  rarely  the 
original  plant  that  has  survived,  but  a  seedling  from  it 
that  has  sprung  up  unobserved  under  the  sheltering 
leaves  of  its  parent.  The  old  plant  grows  thick  at  the 
juncture  of  root  stock  and  leaf,  the  action  of  the  frost 
furrows  and  splits  it,  water  or  slugs  gain  an  entrance, 
and  it  disappears,  the  younger  growth  taking  its  place. 
Especially  true  is  this  also  of  hollyhocks.  The  lark- 
spurs have  different  roots  and  more  underground  vigour, 
and  all  tap- rooted  herbs  hold  their  own  well,  the  dif- 
ficulty being  to  curb  their  spreading  and  undermining 
their  border  companions. 

It  is  conditions  like  these  that  keep  the  gardener 
of  hardy  things  ever  on  the  alert.  Beds  for  annuals 
or  florists'  plants  are  thoroughly  dug  and  graded  each 


CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS          33 

spring,  so  that  the  weeds  that  must  be  combated  are  of 
new  and  comparatively  shallow  growth.  The  hardy 
bed,  on  the  contrary,  in  certain  places  must  be  stirred 
with  a  fork  only  and  that  with  the  greatest  care,  for,  if 
well-planned,  plants  of  low  growth  will  carpet  the  ground 
between  tall  standing  things,  so  that  in  many  spots  the 
fingers,  with  a  small  weeding  hoe  only,  are  admissible. 
Thus  a  blade  of  grass  here,  some  chickweed  there,  the 
seed  ball  of  a  composite  dropping  in  its  aerial  flight,  and 
lo !  presently  weedlings  and  seedlings  are  wrestling 
together,  and  you  hesitate  to  deal  roughly  with  one  for 
fear  of  injuring  the  constitution  of  the  other.  To  go  to 
the  other  extreme  and  keep  the  hardy  garden  or  border 
as  spick  and  span  clean  as  a  row  of  onions  or  carrots 
in  the  vegetable  garden,  is  to  do  away  with  the  informal- 
ity and  a  certain  gracious  blending  of  form  and  colour 
that  is  one  of  its  greatest  charms. 

Thus  it  comes  about,  with  the  most  successful  of  hardy 
mixed  borders,  that,  at  the  end  of  the  third  season,  things 
will  become  a  little  confused  and  the  relations  between 
certain  border-brothers  slightly  strained;  the  central 
flowers  of  the  clumps  of  phloxes,  etc.,  grow  small,  be- 
cause the  newer  growth  of  the  outside  circle  saps  their 
vitality. 

Personally,  I  believe  in  drastic  measures  and  every 


34  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

third  or  fourth  year,  in  late  September,  or  else  April, 
according  to  season  and  other  contingencies,  I  have  all 
the  plants  carefully  removed  from  the  beds  and  ranged 
in  rows  of  a  kind  upon  the  broad  central  walk.  Then, 
after  the  bed  is  thoroughly  worked,  manured,  and  graded, 
the  plants  are  divided  and  reset,  the  leavings  often  serv- 
ing as  a  sort  of  horticultural  wampum,  the  medium 
of  exchange  among  neighbours  with  gardens,  or  else 
going  as  a  freewill  offering  to  found  a  garden  for  one 
of  the  "plotters"  who  needs  encouragement. 

The  limitations  of  the  soil  of  my  garden  and  surround- 
ings serve  as  the  basis  of  an  experience  that,  however, 
I  have  found  carried  out  practically  in  the  same  way 
in  the  larger  gardens  of  the  Bluffs  and  in  many  other 
places  that  Evan  and  I  have  visited.  So  that  any  one 
thinking  that  a  hardy  garden,  at  least  of  herbaceous 
plants,  is  a  thing  that,  once  established,  will,  if  not 
molested,  go  on  forever,  after  the  manner  of  the  fern 
banks  of  the  woods  or  the  wild  flowers  of  marsh  and 
meadow,  will  be  grievously  disappointed. 

Of  course,  where  hardy  plants  are  massed,  as  in  nurs- 
eries, horticultural  gardens,  or  the  large  estates,  each 
in  a  bed  or  plot  of  its  kind,  this  resetting  is  far 
simpler,  as  each  variety  can  receive  the  culture  best 
suited  to  it,  and  there  is  no  mixing  of  species. 


CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS  35 

Another  common  error  in  regard  to  the  hardy  gar- 
den, aided  and  abetted  by  Garden  Goozle,  is  that  it  is 
easy  or  even  practicable  to  have  every  bed  in  a  bloom- 
ing and  decorative  condition  during  the  whole  season. 
It  is  perfectly  possible  always  to  have  colour  and  fra- 
grance in  -some  part  of  the  garden  during  the  entire 
season,  after  the  manner  of  the  natural  sequence  of 
bloom  that  passes  over  the  land,  each  bed  in  bloom 
some  of  the  time,  but  not  every  bed  all  of  the  time. 
Artifice  and  not  nature  alone  can  produce  this,  and  ar- 
tifice is  too  costly  a  thing  for  the  woman  who  is  her  own 
gardener,  even  if  otherwise  desirable.  For  it  should 
appeal  to  every  one  having  a  grain  of  garden  sense  that, 
if  the  plants  of  May  and  June  are  to  grow  and  bloom 
abundantly,  those  that  come  to  perfection  in  July  and 
August,  if  planted  in  their  immediate  vicinity,  must  be 
overshadowed  and  dwarfed.  The  best  that  can  be 
done  is  to  leave  little  gaps  or  lines  between  the  hardy 
plants,  so  that  gladioli,  or  some  of  the  quick-growing 
and  really  worthy  annuals,  can  be  introduced  to  lend 
colour  to  what  becomes  too  severely  of  the  past. 

There  is  one  hardy  garden,  not  far  from  Boston, 
one  of  those  where  the  landscape  architect  lingers  to 
study  the  possibilities  of  the  formal  side  of  his  art  in 
skilful  adjustment  of  pillar,  urn,  pergola,  and  basin,  — 


36  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

this  garden  is  never  out  of  flower.  At  many  seasons 
Evan  and  I  had  visited  it,  early  and  late,  only  to  find 
it  one  unbroken  sheet  of  bloom.  How  was  it  possible, 
we  queried?  Comes  a  day  when  the  complex  secret 
of  the  apparent  simple  abundance  was  revealed.  It 
was  as  the  foxgloves,  that  flanked  a  long  alley,  were  de- 
cidedly waning  when,  quite  early  one  morning,  we 
chanced  to  behold  a  small  regiment  of  men  remove  the 
plants,  root  and  branch,  and  swiftly  substitute  for  them 
immense  pot-grown  plants  of  the  tall  flower  snapdragon 
(Antirrhinum),  perfectly  symmetrical  in  shape,  with 
buds  well  open  and  showing  colour.  These  would  con- 
tinue in  bloom  quite  through  August  and  fnto  September. 
So  rapidly  was  the  change  made  that,  in  a  couple  of  hours 
at  most,  all  traces  were  obliterated,  and  the  casual 
passer-by  would  have  been  unaware  that  the  plants  had 
not  grown  on  the  spot.  This  sort  of  thing  is  a  permissi- 
ble luxury  to  those  who  can  afford  and  desire  an  exhibi- 
tion garden,  but  it  is  not  watching  the  garden  growing 
and  quivering  and  responding  to  all  its  vicissitudes  and 
escapes  as  does  the  humble  owner.  Hardy  gardening 
of  this  kind  is  both  more  difficult  and  costly,  even  if  more 
satisfactory,  than  filling  a  bed  with  a  rotation  of  florists' 
flowers,  after  the  custom  as  seen  in  the  parks  and  about 
club-houses :  to  wit,  first  tulips,  then  pansies  and  daisies, 


CONCERNING  HARDY  PLANTS         37 

next  foliage  plants  or  geraniums,  and  finally,  when  frost 
threatens,  potted  plants  of  hardy  chrysanthemums  are 
brought  into  play. 

No,  The  Garden,  You,  and  I  know  that  hardy  plants, 
native  and  acclimated,  may  be  had  in  bloom  from  hepat- 
ica  time  until  ice  crowns  the  last  button  chrysanthemum 
and  chance  pansy,  but  to  have  every  bed  in  continuous 
bloom  all  the  season  is  not  for  us,  any  more  than  it  is 
to  be  expected  that  every  individual  plant  in  a  row  should 
survive  the  frost  upheavals  and  thaws  of  winter. 

If  a  garden  is  so  small  that  half  a  dozen  each  of  the 
ten  or  twelve  best- known  species  of  hardy  herbs  will 
suffice,  they  may  be  bought  of  one  of  the  many  reliable 
dealers  who  now  offer  such  things;  but  if  the  place  is 
large  and  rambling,  affording  nooks  for  hardy  plants 
of  many  kinds  and  in  large  quantities,  then  a  permanent 
seed  bed  is  a  positive  necessity. 

This  advice  is  especially  for  those  who  are  now  so 
rapidly  taking  up  old  farmsteads,  bringing  light  again 
to  the  eyes  of  the  window-panes  that  have  looked  out 
on  the  world  of  nature  so  long  that  they  were  grow- 
ing dim  from  human  neglect.  In  these  places,  where 
land  is  reckoned  by  the  acre,  not  by  the  foot,  there  is  no 
excuse  for  the  lack  of  seed  beds  for  both  hardy  and 
annual  flowers  (though  these  latter  belong  to  another 


38  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

record),  in  addition  to  space  for  cuttings  of  shrubs, 
hardy  roses,  and  other  woody  things  that  may  be  thus 
rooted. 

If  there  is  a  bit  of  land  that  has  been  used  for  a  vege- 
table garden  and  is  not  wholly  worn  out,  so  much  the 
better.  The  best  seed  bed  I  have  ever  seen  belongs  to 
Jane  Crandon  at  the  Jenks- Smith  place  on  the  Bluffs. 
It  was  an  old  asparagus  bed  belonging  to  the  farm, 
thoroughly  well  drained  and  fertilized,  but  the  original 
crop  had  grown  thin  and  spindling  from  being  neg- 
lected and  allowed  to  drop  its  seed. 

In  the  birth  of  this  bed  the  wind  and  sun,  as  in  all 
happy  gardens,  had  been  duly  consulted,  and  the  wind 
promised  to  keep  well  behind  a  thick  wall  of  hemlocks 
that  bounded  it  on  the  north  and  east  whenever  he 
was  in  a  cruel  mood.  The  sun,  casting  his  rays  about 
to  get  the  points  of  compass,  promised  that  he  would  fix 
his  eye  upon  the  bed  as  soon  as  he  had  bathed  his  face 
in  mist  on  rising  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  house,  and 
then,  after  watching  it  until  past  noon,  turn  his  back, 
so  no  wonder  that  the  bed  throve. 

Any  well-located  bit  of  fairly  good  ground  can  be 
made  into  a  hardy  seed  bed,  provided  only  that  it  is 
not  where  frozen  water  covers  it  in  winter,  or  in  the 
way  of  the  wind,  coming  through  a  cut  or  sweeping 


CONCERNING   HARDY  PLANTS         39 

over  the  brow  of  a  hill,  for  flowers  are  like  birds  in 
this  respect,  —  they  can  endure  cold  and  many  other 
hardships,  but  they  quail  before  the  blight  of  wind. 

For  all  gardens  of  ordinary  size  a  bit  of  ground  ten 
feet  by  thirty  feet  will  be  sufficient.  If  the  earth  is  heavy 
loam  and  inclined  to  cake  or  mould,  add  a  little  sifted 
sand  and  a  thin  sprinkling  of  either  nitrate  of  soda  or 
one  of  the  "complete"  commercial  manures.  Barn- 
yard manure,  unless  very  well  rotted  and  thoroughly 
worked  under,  is  apt  to  develop  fungi  destructive  to 
seedlings.  This  will  be  sufficient  preparation  if  the  soil 
is  in  average  condition ;  but  if  the  earth  is  old  and  worn 
out,  it  must  be  either  sub-soiled  or  dug  and  enriched 
with  barnyard  (not  stable)  manure  to  the  depth  of  a 
foot,  or  more  if  yellow  loam  is  not  met  below  that 
depth. 

If  the  bed  is  on  a  slight  slope,  so  much  the  better. 
Dig  a  shallow  trench  of  six  or  eight  inches  around  it  to 
carry  off  the  wash.  An  abrupt  hillside  is  a  poor  place 
for  such  a  bed,  as  the  finer  seeds  will  inevitably  be  washed 
out  in  the  heavy  rains  of  early  summer.  If  the  surface 
soil  is  lumpy  or  full  of  small  stones  that  escape  fine 
raking,  it  must  be  shovelled  through  a  sand- screen, 
as  it  is  impossible  for  the  most  ambitious  seed  to  grow 
if  its  first  attempt  is  met  by  the  pressure  of  what  would 


40  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

be  the  equivalent  of  a  hundred- ton  boulder  to  a 
man. 

It  is  to  details  such  as  these  that  success  or  failure  in 
seed  raising  is  due,  and  when  people  say,  "I  prefer  to 
buy  plants;  I  am  very  unlucky  with  seeds,"  I  smile 
to  myself,  and  the  picture  of  something  I  once  observed 
done  by  one  of  the  so-called  gardeners  of  my  early 
married  days  flits  before  me. 

The  man  scraped  a  groove  half  an  inch  deep  in  hard- 
baked  soil,  with  a  pointed  stick,  scattered  therein  the 
dustlike  seeds  of  the  dwarf  blue  lobelia  as  thickly 
as  if  he  had  been  sprinkling  sugar  on  some  very  sour 
article,  then  proceeded  to  trample  them  into  the  earth 
with  all  the  force  of  very  heavy  feet.  Of  course  the 
seeds  thus  treated  found  themselves  sealed  in  a  cement 
vault,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  treating  victims 
of  the  Inquisition,  the  trickle  of  moisture  that  could 
possibly  reach  them  from  a  careless  watering  only 
serving  to  prolong  their  death  from  suffocation. 

The  woman  gardener,  I  believe,  is  never  so  stupid 
as  this;  rather  is  she  tempted  to  kill  by  kindness  in 
overfertilizing  and  overwatering,  but  too  lavish  of  seed 
in  the  sowing  she  certainly  is,  and  I  speak  from  the  con- 
viction born  of  my  own  experience. 

When  the  earth  is  all  ready  for  the  planting,  and  the 


CONCERNING   HARDY   PLANTS         41 

sweet,  moist  odour  rises  when  you  open  the  seed  papers 
with  fingers  almost  trembling  with  eagerness,  it  seems 
second  nature  to  be  lavish.  If  a  few  seeds  will  produce 
a  few  plants,  why  not  the  more  the  merrier?  If  they 
come  up  too  thick,  they  can  be  thinned  out,  you  argue, 
and  thick  sowing  is  being  on  the  safe  side.  But  is  it? 
Quite  the  contrary.  When  the  seedlings  appear,  you 
delay,  waiting  for  them  to  gain  a  good  start  before  jar- 
ring their  roots  by  thinning.  All  of  a  sudden  they 
make  such  strides  that  when  you  begin,  you  are  appalled 
by  the  task,  and  after  a  while  cease  pulling  the  individ- 
ual plants,  but  recklessly  attack  whole  "chunks"  at 
once,  or  else  give  up  in  a  despair  that  results  in  a  row 
of  anaemic,  drawn-out  starvelings  that  are  certainly  not 
to  be  called  a  success.  After  having  tried  and  duly 
weighed  the  labour  connected  with  both  methods,  I 
find  it  best  to  sow  thinly  and  to  rely  on  filling  gaps 
by  taking  a  plant  here  and  there  from  a  crowded  spot. 
For  this  reason,  as  well  as  that  of  uniformity  also,  it  is 
always  better  to  sow  seeds  of  hardy  or  annual  flowers 
in  a  seed  bed,  and  then  remove,  when  half  a  dozen  leaves 
appear,  to  the  permanent  position  in  the  ornamental 
part  of  the  garden. 

With  annuals,  of  course,  there  are  some  exceptions  to 
this  rule,  —  in  the  case  of  sweet  peas,  nasturtiums, 


42  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,   AND   I 

mignonette,  portulaca,  poppies,  and  the  like,  where 
great  quantities  are  massed. 

When  you  have  prepared  a  hardy  seed  bed  of  the 
dimensions  of  ten  by  thirty  feet,  which  will  allow  of 
thirty  rows,  ten  feet  long  and  a  foot  apart  (though  you 
must  double  the  thirty  feet  if  you  intend  to  cultivate 
between  the  rows  with  any  sort  of  weeding  machine, 
and  if  you  have  room  there  should  be  two  feet  or 
even  three  between  the  rows),  draw  a  garden  line  taut 
across  the  narrow  way  of  the  plot  at  the  top,  snap  it, 
and  you  will  have  the  drill  for  your  first  planting,  which 
you  may  deepen  if  the  seeds  be  large. 

Before  beginning,  make  a  list  of  your  seeds,  with  the 
heights  marked  against  each,  and  put  the  tallest  at  the 
top  of  the  bed. 

"Why  bother  with  this,  when  they  are  to  be  trans- 
planted as  soon  as  they  are  fist  up?"  I  hear  Mary 
Penrose  exclaim  quickly,  her  head  tipped  to  one  side 
like  an  inquisitive  bird. 

Because  this  seed  bed,  if  well  planned,  will  serve  the 
double  purpose  of  being  also  the  "house  supply  bed." 
If,  when  the  transplanting  is  done,  the  seedlings  are 
taken  at  regular  intervals,  instead  of  all  from  one  spot, 
those  that  remain,  if  not  needed  as  emergency  fillers, 
will  bloom  as  they  stand  and  be  the  flowers  to  be  util- 


CONCERNING   HARDY  PLANTS          43 

ized  by  cutting  for  house  decoration,  without  depriv- 
ing the  garden  beds  of  too  much  of  their  colour.  At  the 
commercial  florists,  and  in  many  of  the  large  private 
gardens,  rows  upon  rows  of  flowers  are  grown  on  the 
vegetable- garden  plan,  solely  for  gathering  for  the 
house,  and  while  those  with  limited  labour  and  room 
cannot  do  this  extensively,  they  can  gain  the  same  end 
by  an  intelligent  use  of  their  seed  beds. 

Many  men  (and  more  especially  many  women),  many 
minds,  but  however  much  tastes  may  differ  I  think 
that  a  list  of  thirty  species  of  herbaceous  perennials 
should  be  enough  to  satisfy  the  ambition  of  an  amateur, 
at  least  in  the  climate  of  the  middle  and  eastern  United 
States.  I  have  tried  many  more,  and  I  could  be  satis- 
fied with  a  few  less.  Of  course  by  buying  the  seeds  in 
separate  colours,  as  in  the  single  case  of  pansies,  one 
may  use  the  entire  bed  for  a  single  species,  but  the  cal- 
culation of  size  is  based  upon  either  a  ten-foot  row  of  a 
mixture  of  one  species,  or  else  that  amount  of  ground 
subdivided  among  several  colours. 

Of  the  seeds  for  the  hardy  beds  themselves,  the  entic- 
ing catalogues  offer  a  bewildering  array.  The  maker 
of  the  new  garden  would  try  them  all,  and  thereby  often 
brings  on  a  bit  of  horticultural  indigestion  in  which 
gardener  and  garden  suffer  equally,  and  the  resulting 


44  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

plants  frequently  perish  from  pernicious  anaemia.  Of 
the  number  of  plants  needed,  each  gardener  must  be 
the  judge;  also,  in  spite  of  many  warnings  and  direc- 
tions, each  one  must  finally  work  on  the  lines  of  per- 
sonally won  experience.  What  is  acceptable  to  the  soil 
and  protected  by  certain  shelter  in  my  garden  on  one 
side  of  hill  crest  or  road  may  not  flourish  in  a  different 
soil  and  exposure  only  a  mile  away.  One  thing  is 
very  certain,  however,  —  it  is  time  wasted  to  plant  a 
hardy  garden  of  herbaceous  plants  in  shallow  soil. 

In  starting  the  hardy  seed  bed  it  is  always  safe  to  plant 
columbines,  Canterbury  bells,  coreopsis,  larkspur, 
pinks  in  variety,  foxgloves,  hollyhocks,  gaillardia,  the 
cheerful  evergreen  candy-tuft,  bee  balm  and  its  cousin 
wild  bergamot,  forget-me-nots,  evening  primroses,  and 
the  day-flowering  sundrops,  Iceland  and  Oriental  pop- 
pies, hybrid  phlox,  the  primrose  and  cowslips  of  both 
English  fields  and  gardens,  that  are  quite  hardy  here  (at 
least  in  the  coastwise  New  England  and  Middle  states), 
double  feverfew,  lupins,  honesty,  with  its  profusion  of 
lilac  and  white  bloom  and  seed  vessels  that  glisten  like 
mother-of-pearl,  the  tall  snapdragons,  decorative  alike 
in  garden  or  house,  fraxinella  or  gas  plant,  with  its 
spikes  of  odd  white  flowers,  and  pansies,  always  pansies, 
for  the  open  in  spring  and  autumn,  in  rich,  shady  nooks 


FRAXINELLA,  — GERMAN  IRIS  AND  CANDY-TUFT. 


CONCERNING   HARDY  PLANTS          45 

all  summer,  and  even  at  midwinter  a  few  tufts  left  in  a 
sunny  spot,  at  the  bottom  of  a  wall  by  the  snowdrops, 
will  surprise  you  with  round,  cheerful  faces  with  the 
snow  coverlet  tucked  quite  under  their  chins. 

It  is  well  to  keep  a  tabulated  list  of  these  old-time 
perennials  in  the  Garden  Boke,  so  that  in  the  feverish 
haste  and  excitement  of  the  planting  season  a  mere 
glance  will  be  a  reminder  of  height,  colour,  and  time  of 
bloom.  I  lend  you  mine,  not  as  containing  anything 
new  or  original,  but  simply  as  a  suggestion,  a  hint  of 
what  one  garden  has  found  good  and  writ  on  its  honour 
list.  Newer  things  and  hybrids  are  now  endless,  and 
may  be  tested  and  added,  one  by  one,  but  it  takes  at 
least  three  seasons  of  this  adorably  unmonotonous 
climate  of  alternate  drought,  damp,  open  or  cold  winter, 
to  prove  a  plant  hardy  and  worthy  a  place  on  the  honour 
roll.  (See  p.  376.) 

Before  you  plant,  sit  down  by  yourself  with  the  pack- 
ages spread  before  you  and  examine  the  seeds  at  your 
leisure.  This  is  the  first  uplifting  of  the  veil  that  you 
may  see  into  the  real  life  of  a  garden,  a  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  seed  that  mothers  the  perfect  plant. 

It  may  seem  a  trivial  matter,  but  it  is  not  so ;  each 
seed,  be  it  seemingly  but  a  dust  grain,  bears  its  own  type 
and  identity.  Also,  from  its  shape,  size,  and  the  hard- 


46  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ness  or  thinness  of  its  covering,  you  may  learn  the  neces- 
sities of  its  planting  and  development,  for  nowhere  more 
than  in  the  seed  is  shown  the  miraculous  in  nature  and 
the  forethought  and  economy  of  it  all. 

The  smaller  the  seed,  the  greater  the  yield  to  a  flower, 
as  if  to  guard  against  chances  of  loss.  The  stately  fox- 
glove springs  from  a  dust  grain,  and  fading  holds  aloft 
a  seed  spike  of  prolific  invention ;  the  lupin  has  stout, 
podded,  countable  seeds  that  must  of  necessity  fall  to  the 
ground  by  force  of  weight.  Also  in  fingering  the  seeds, 
you  will  know  why  some  are  slow  in  germinating :  these 
are  either  hard  and  gritty,  sandlike,  like  those  of  the 
English  primrose,  smooth  as  if  coated  with  varnish, 
like  the  pansy,  violet,  columbine,  and  many  others, 
or  enclosed  in  a  rigid  shell  like  the  iris-hued  Japanese 
morning-glories  and  other  ipomeas.  Heart  of  Nature 
is  never  in  a  hurry,  for  him  time  is  not.  What  matters 
it  if  a  seed  lies  one  or  two  years  in  the  ground  ? 

With  us  of  seed  beds  and  gardens,  it  is  different. 
We  wish  present  visible  growth,  and  so  we  must  be 
willing  to  lend  aid,  and  first  aid  to  such  seeds  is  to  give 
them  a  whiff  of  moist  heat  to  soften  what  has  become 
more  hard  than  desirable  through  man's  intervention. 
For  in  wild  nature  the  seed  is  sown  as  soon  as  it  ripens, 
and  falls  to  the  care  of  the  ground  before  the  vitality 


CONCERNING    HARDY  PLANTS          47 

of  the  parent  plant  has  quite  passed  from  it.  That  is 
why  the  seed  of  a  hardy  plant,  self-sown  at  midsummer, 
grows  with  so  much  more  vigour  than  kindred  seed  that 
has  been  lodged  in  a  packet  since  the  previous  season. 

My  way  of  "first  aiding"  these  seeds  is  to  tie  them 
loosely  in  a  wisp  of  fine  cheese-cloth  or  muslin,  leaving 
a  length  of  string  for  a  handle  (as  tea  is  sometimes  pre- 
pared for  the  pot  by  those  who  do  not  like  mussy  tea 
leaves).  Dip  the  bag  in  hot  (not  boiling)  water, 
and  leave  it  there  at  least  an  hour,  oftentimes  all  night. 
In  this  way  the  seed  is  softened  and  germination  awak- 
ened. I  have  left  pansy  seeds  in  soak  for  twenty-four 
hours  with  good  results.  Of  course  the  seed  should  be 
planted  before  it  dries,  and  rubbing  it  in  a  little  earth 
(after  the  manner  of  flouring  currants  for  cake)  will 
keep  the  seeds  from  sticking  either  to  the  fingers  or  to 
each  other. 

What  a  contrast  it  all  is,  our  economy  and  nature's 
lavishness;  our  impatience,  nature's  calm  assurance! 
In  the  garden  the  sower  feels  a  responsibility,  the  sweat 
beads  stand  on  the  brow  in  the  sowing.  With  nature 
undisturbed  it  may  be  the  blind  flower  of  the  wild  violet 
perfecting  its  moist  seed  under  the  soil,  a  nod  of  a  stalk 
to  the  wind,  a  ball  of  fluff  sailing  by,  or  the  hunger  of  a 
bird,  and  the  sowing  is  done. 


IV 
THEIR  GARDEN  VACATION 

(From  Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 

WOODRIDGE,  May  10. 
"DEAR  MRS.  EVAN, 

"  For  the  past  week  I  have  been  delving  in  the  seed 
bed,  and  until  it  was  an  accomplished  fact,  that  is  as 
far  as  putting  on  the  top  sheet  of  finely  sifted  dirt  over 
the  seeds  sleeping  in  rows  and  rounding  the  edges  after 
the  most  approved  methods  of  bed-making,  praying 
the  while  for  a  speedy  awakening,  I  had  neither  fingers 
for  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  nor  the  head  to  properly  think 
out  the  answer  to  your  May-day  invitation. 

"  So  you  have  heard  that  we  are  to  take  a  long  vacation 
this  summer,  and  therefore  ask  us  to  join  your  driving 
and  tramping  trip  in  search  of  garden  and  sylvan  ad- 
venture; in  short  to  become  your  fellow- strollers  in  the 
Forest  of  Arden,  now  transported  to  the  Berkshires. 

"  It  was  certainly  a  kind  and  gracious  thought  of  yours 
to  admit  outsiders  into  the  intimacies  of  such  a  journey, 
and  on  the  moment  we  both  cried,  '  Yes,  we  will  go ! ' 
48 


THEIR    GARDEN    VACATION  49 

and  then  appeared  but  —  that  little  word  of  three 
letters,  and  yet  the  condensation  of  whole  volumes, 
that  is  so  often  the  stumbling- block  to  enthusiasm. 

"  The  translation  of  this  particular  but  will  take  a  quire 
of  paper,  much  ink,  and  double  postage  on  my  part,  and 
a  deal  of  perusive  patience  on  yours,  so  to  proceed.  Like 
much  else  that  is  hearable  the  report  is  partly  true,  inso- 
much that  your  father,  Dr.  Russell,  thinks  it  necessary 
for  Bart  to  take  a  real  vacation,  as  he  put  it,  'An  entire 
change  in  a  place  where  time  is  not  beaten  insistently 
at  the  usual  sixty- seconds- a-minute  rate,  day  in  and  out,' 
where  he  shall  have  no  train- catching  or  appointments 
either  business  or  social  hanging  over  him.  At  the  same 
time  he  must  not  hibernate  physically,  but  be  where  he 
will  feel  impelled  to  take  plenty  of  open-air  exercise, 
as  a  matter  of  course !  For  you  see,  as  a  lawyer,  Bart 
breathes  in  a  great  deal  of  bad  air,  and  his  tongue  and 
pen  hand  get  much  more  exercise  than  do  his  legs,  while 
all  the  spring  he  has  'gone  back  on  his  vittles  that 
reckless  it  would  break  your  heart,'  as  Anastasia,  our 
devoted,  if  outspoken,  Celtic  cook  puts  it. 

"  The  exact  location  of  this  desired  valley  of  perfection, 
the  ways  and  means  'of  reaching  it,  as  well  as  what  shall 
become  of  the  house  and  Infant  during  our  absence, 
have  formed  a  daily  dialogue  for  the  past  fortnight,  or 


50  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

I  should  say  triologue,  for  Anastasia  has  decided  opin- 
ions, and  has  turned  into  a  brooding  raven,  informing 
us  constantly  of  the  disasters  that  have  overtaken  vari- 
ous residents  of  the  place  who  have  taken  vacations, 
the  head  of  one  family  having  acquired  typhoid  in  the 
Catskills,  a  second  injured  his  spine  at  the  seaside  by 
diving  in  shallow  water,  while  the  third  was  mistaken 
for  a  moose  in  Canada  and  shot.  However,  her  in- 
terest is  comforting  from  the  fact  that  she  evidently 
does  not  wish  to  part  with  us  at  present. 

"  It  must  be  considered  that  if  we  take  a  really  com- 
fortable trip  of  a  couple  of  months'  duration,  and  Bart's 
chief  is  willing  to  allow  him  a  three  months'  absence, 
as  it  will  be  his  first  real  vacation  since  we  were  married 
six  years  ago,  it  will  devour  the  entire  sum  that  we  have 
saved  for  improving  the  farm  and  garden. 

"  You  live  on  the  place  where  you  were  born,  which 
has  developed  by  degrees  like  yourselves,  yet  you 
probably  know  that  rescuing,  not  an  abandoned  farm 
but  the  abode  of  ancient  and  decayed  gentility,  even 
though  the  house  is  oak-ribbed  Colonial,  and  making  it 
a  tangible  home  for  a  commuter,  is  not  a  cheap  bit  of 
work. 

"As  to  the  Infant  —  to  take  a  human  four-and-a- 
half- year-old  travelling,  for  the  best  part  of  a  summer, 


THEIR   GARDEN   VACATION  51 

is  an  imposition  upon  herself,  her  parents,  and  the  pub- 
lic at  large.  To  leave  her  with  Bart's  mother,  whose 
forte  is  Scotch  crossed  with  Pennsylvania  Dutch  dis- 
cipline, will  probably  be  to  find  on  her  return  that  she 
has  developed  a  quaking  fear  of  the  dark ;  while,  if  she 
goes  to  my  mother,  bless  her !  who  has  the  beautiful 
and  soothing  Southern  genius  for  doing  the  most  com- 
fortable thing  for  the  moment,  regardless  of  conse- 
quences, the  Infant  for  months  after  will  expect  to  be 
sung  to  sleep,  my  hand  cuddled  against  her  cheek,  until 
I  develop  laryngitis  from  continued  vocal  struggles 
with  'Ole  Uncle  Ned,'  'Down  in  de  Cane  Brake,' 
and  '  De  Possum  and  de  Coon.' 

"  This  mental  and  verbal  struggle  was  brought  to  an 
end  yesterday  by  The  Man  from  Everywhere.  Do  you 
remember,  that  was  the  title  that  we  gave  Ross  Blake, 
the  engineer,  two  summers  ago,  when  you  and  Evan 
visited  us,  because  he  was  continually  turning  up  and  al- 
ways from  some  new  quarter?  Just  now  he  has  been 
put  in  charge  of  the  construction  of  the  reservoir 
that  is  to  do  away  with  our  beloved  piece  of  wild- 
flower  river  woods  in  the  valley  below  Three  Brothers 
Hills. 

"  As  usual  he  turned  up  unexpectedly  with  Bartram 
Saturday  afternoon  and  'made  camp,'  as  a  matter  of 


52  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

course.  A  most  soothing  sort  of  person  is  this  same 
Man  from  Everywhere,  and  a  special  dispensation  to  any 
woman  whose  husband's  best  friend  he  chances  to  be, 
as  in  my  case,  for  a  man  who  is  as  well  satisfied  with 
crackers,  cheese,  and  ale  as  with  your  very  best  com- 
pany spread,  praises  the  daintiness  of  your  guest  cham- 
ber, but  sleeps  equally  sound  in  a  hammock  swung  in 
the  Infant's  attic  play- room,  is  not  to  be  met  every  day 
in  this  age  of  finnickiness.  Then  again  he  has  the  gift 
of  saying  the  right  thing  at  difficult  moments,  and 
meaning  it  too,  and  though  a  born  rover,  has  an  almost 
feminine  sympathy  for  the  little  dilemmas  of  house- 
keeping that  are  so  vital  to  us  and  yet  are  of  no  moment 
to  the  masculine  mind.  Yes,  I  do  admire  him  im- 
mensely, and  only  wish  I  saw  an  opportunity  of  marry- 
ing him  either  into  the  family  or  the  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood, for  though  he  is  nearly  forty,  he  is  neither  a 
misanthrope  nor  a  woman  hater,  but  rather  seems  to 
have  set  himself  a  difficult  ideal  and  had  limited  oppor- 
tunities. Once,  not  long  ago,  I  asked  him  why  he  did 
not  marry.  'Because,'  he  answered,  'I  can  only 
marry  a  perfectly  frank  woman,  and  the  few  of  that  clan 
I  have  met,  since  there  has  been  anything  in  my  pocket 
to  back  my  wish,  have  always  been  married!' 
"'  I  have  noticed  that  too,'  said  Bart,  whom  I  did  not 


THEIR  GARDEN    VACATION  53 

know  was  listening;  'then  there  is  nothing  for  us  to 
do  but  find  you  a  widow !' 

"'No,  that  will  not  do,  either;  I  want  born,  not 
acquired,  frankness,  for  that  is  only  another  term  for 
expediency,'  he  replied  with  emphasis. 

"  So  you  see  this  Man  is  not  only  somewhat  difficult, 
but  he  has  observed ! 

"  Last  night  after  dinner,  when  the  men  drew  their- 
chairs  toward  the  fire,  —  for  we  still  have  one,  though 
the  windows  are  open,  —  and  the  fragrance  from  the 
bed  of  double  English  violets,  that  you  sent  me,  mingled 
with  the  wood  smoke,  we  all  began  to  croon  comfortably. 
As  soon  as  he  had  settled  back  in  the  big  chair,  with 
closed  eyes  and  finger  tips  nicely  matched,  we  pro- 
pounded our  conundrum  of  taking  three  from  two  and 
having  four  remain. 

"  A  brief  summary  of  the  five  years  we  have  lived 
here  will  make  the  needs  of  the  place  more  clear. 

"  The  first  year,  settling  ourselves  in  the  house  and 
the  arrival  of  the  Infant  completely  absorbed  ourselves, 
income,  and  a  good  bit  of  savings.  Repairing  the  home 
filled  the  second  year.  The  outdoor  time  and  money 
of  the  third  year  was  eaten  up  by  an  expensive  and  oblit- 
erative  process  called  'grading,'  a  trap  for  newly 
fledged  landowners.  This  meant  taking  all  the  kinks 


54  THE    GARDEN,   YOU,   AND   I 

and  little  original  attitudes  out  of  the  soil  and  reproving 
its  occasional  shoulder  shrugs,  so  to  speak, — Delsarte 
methods  applied  to  the  earth,  —  and  you  know  that 
Evan  actually  laughed  at  us  for  doing  it. 

"  Even  in  the  beginning  we  didn't  care  much  for  this 
grading,  but  it  was  in  the  plan  that  father  Penrose  had 
made  for  us  by  a  landscape  gardener,  renowned  about 
•Philadelphia  at  the  time  he  gave  us  the  place  as  a 
'  start  in  life,'  so  we  felt  in  some  way  mysteriously 
bound  by  it.  And  I  may  as  well  assert  right  here  that, 
though  it  is  well  to  have  a  clear  idea  of  what  you  mean 
to  do  in  making  a  garden,  or  ever  so  small  pleasure 
grounds,  that  every  bit  of  labour,  however  trivial, 
may  go  toward  one  end  and  not  have  to  be  undone,  a 
conventional  plan  unsympathetically  made  and  blindly 
followed  often  becomes  a  cross  between  Fetish  and  Jug- 
gernaut. It  has  taken  me  exactly  four  years  of  blunder- 
ing to  find  that  you  must  live  your  garden  life,  find  out 
and  study  its  peculiarities  and  necessities  yourself, 
just  as  you  do  that  of  your  indoor  home,  if  success  is 
to  be  the  result ! 

"  As  it  was,  the  grading  began  behind  the  lilac  bushes 
inside  the  front  fence  and  proceeded  in  fairly  graceful 
sweeps,  dividing  each  side  of  the  level  bit  where  the 
old  garden  had  been,  the  still  remaining  boxwood 


THEIR    GARDEN    VACATION  55 

bushes  and  outlines  of  walks  and  beds,  saving  this 
from  obliteration,  and  meeting  again  at  the  drying  yard. 

"  Here  the  proceeding  stopped  abruptly,  as  if  it  had 
received  a  shock,  which  it  had,  as  at  this  point  the  family 
purse  wholly  collapsed  with  a  shudder,  for  the  next 
requirement  of  the  plan  was  the  turning  of  a  long  crest 
of  rocky  woodland,  shaped  like  a  three-humped  camel, 
that  bounded  us  on  the  northwest,  into  a  series  of  ter- 
races, to  render  the  assent  from  a  somewhat  trim  resi- 
dential section  to  the  pastures  of  the  real  farming  coun- 
try next  door  less  abrupt. 

"In  its  original  state  this  spur  of  woodland  had  un- 
doubtedly been  very  beautiful,  with  hemlocks  making  a 
windbreak,  and  all  manner  of  shrubs,  wild  herbs,  and 
ferns  filling  in  the  leaf- mould  pockets  between  the 
boulders.  Now  it  is  bare  of  everything  except  a  few  old 
hemlocks  that  sweep  the  pasture  and  the  rocks,  wan- 
dering cattle  and  excursionists  from  the  village,  dur- 
ing the  'abandoned'  period  of  the  place,  having 
caused  havoc  among  the  shrubs  and  ferns. 

"  Various  estimates  have  been  given,  but  $1000  seemed 
to  be  the  average  for  carrying  out  the  terrace  plan 
even  partially,  as  much  blasting  is  involved,  and 
$1000  is  exactly  one-fourth  of  the  spendable  part  of 
Bart's  yearly  earnings ! 


56  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

"The  flower  garden  also  cries  for  proper  raiment, 
for  though  the  original  lines  have  been  preserved  and 
the  soil  put  in  a  satisfactory  shape,  in  lieu  of  the  hardy 
plants  and  old-time  favourites  that  belong  to  such  a 
place,  in  emergency  we  were  reduced,  last  summer,  to 
the  quick- growing  but  monotonous  bedding  plants  for 
fillers.  Can  you  imagine  anything  more  jarring  and 
inconsistent  than  cannas,  castor- oil  beans,  coleus,  and 
nasturtiums  in  a  prim  setting  of  box? 

"  Then,  too,  last  Christmas,  Bart's  parents  sent  us  a 
dear  old  sundial,  with  a  very  good  fluted  column  for  a 
base.  The  motto  reads  'Never  consult  me  at  night,' 
which  Bart  insists  is  an  admonition  for  us  to  keep, 
chickenlike,  early  hours !  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  order 
to  live  up  to  the  dial,  the  beds  that  form  its  court  must 
be  consistently  clothed — for  cannas,  coleus,  and  beans, 
read  peonies,  Madonna  lilies,  sweet-william,  clove- 
pinks,  and  hollyhocks,  which  latter  the  seed  bed  I 
hope  will  duly  furnish. 

"All  these  details,  and  more  too,  I  poured  into  the 
ears  of  The  Man  from  Everywhere,  while  Bart  kept 
rather  silent,  but  I  could  tell  by  the  way  his  pipe 
breathed,  short  and  quick,  that  he  was  thinking  hard. 
One  has  to  be  a  little  careful  in  talking  over  plans  and 
wishes  with  Bart;  his  spirit  is  generous  beyond  his 


THEIR    GARDEN    VACATION  57 

pocket-power  and  he  is  a  bit  sensitive.  He  wants  to 
do  so  much  for  the  Infant,  the  home,  and  me,  that 
when  desire  outruns  the  purse,  Jie  seems  to  feel  that 
the  limit  lies  somewhere  within  the  range  of  his  own 
incapacity,  and  that  bare,  camel-backed  knoll  outlining 
the  horizon,  as  seen  from  the  dining-room  window, 
showing  the  roof  of  the  abandoned  barn  and  hen  yards, 
and  the  difficulty  of  wrestling  with  it,  is  an  especially 
tender  spot. 

"'If  it  was  anything  possible,  I'd  hump  my  back 
and  do  it,  but  it  isn't!'  he  jerked,  knocking  his  pipe 
against  the  chimney-side  before  it  was  half  empty 
and  then  refilling  it;  'it's  either  a  vacation  or  the 
knoll  —  which  shall  it  be  ? 

"  '  I  don't  hanker  after  leaving  home,  but  that 's  what 
a  complete  change  means,  I  suppose,  though  I  confess 
I  should  enjoy  a  rest  for  a  time  from  travelling  to  and 
fro,  like  a  weaver's  shuttle !  Mary  hates  to  leave 
home  too;  she's  a  regular  sit-by-the-fire !  Come, 
which  shall  it  be?  This  indecision  makes  the  cure 
worse  than  the  disease!'  and  Bart  fingered  a  penny 
prior  to  giving  it  the  decisive  flip  —  '  head,  a  vacation ; 
tail,  an  attack  on  the  knoll!'  The  penny  spun,  and 
then  taking  a  queer  backward  leap  fell  into  the  ashes, 
where  it  lay  buried. 


58  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

"'That  reads  like  neither!'  said  Bart,  sitting  up 
with  a  start. 

"'No,  both!'  replied  The  Man  from  Everywhere, 
opening  his  eyes  and  gazing  first  at  Bart  and  then  at 
me  with  a  quizzical  expression. 

"  Instantly  curiosity  was  piqued,  for  compared  to 
this  most  domestic  of  travelled  bachelors,  the  Lady 
from  Philadelphia  was  without  either  foresight  or 
resources. 

"  '  You  said  that  your  riddle  was  to  take  three  from 
two  and  have  four.  My  plan  is  very  simple;  just  add 
three  to  two  and  you  have  not  only  four  but  five! 
Take  a  vacation  from  business,  but  stay  at  home ;  do 
your  own  garden  improvements  with  your  head  and 
a  horse  and  cart  and  a  pair  of  strong  hands  with  a 
pick  and  spade  to  help  you  out,  for  you  can't,  with 
impunity,  turn  an  office  man,  all  of  a  sudden,  into  a 
day  labourer.  As  to  hewing  the  knoll  into  terraces  up 
and  down  again,  tear  up  that  confounded  plan.  Restore 
the  ground  on  nature's  lines,  and  you'll  have  a  better 
windbreak  for  your  house  and  garden  in  winter  than 
the  best  engineer  could  construct,  besides  having  a 
retreat  for  hot  weather  where  you  can  sit  in  your 
bones  without  being  observed  by  the  neighbours!' 

"  He  spoke  very  slowly,  letting  the  smoke  wreaths 


THEIR  GARDEN    VACATION  59 

float  before  his  eyes,  as  if  in  them  he  sought  the  solu- 
tion he  was  voicing. 

"'A  terrace  implies  closely  shorn  turf  and  formal 
surroundings,  out  of  keeping  with  this  place ;  besides, 
young  people  with  only  a  general  maid  and  a  useful 
man  can't  afford  to  be  formal, — if  they  would,  the 
game  isn't  worth  the  strain.'  (Did  I  not  tell  you 
that  he  observes?) 

"  'Let  us  take  a  look  at  the  knoll  to-morrow  and 
see  what  has  grown  there  and  guess  at  what  may  be 
coaxed  to  grow,  and  then  you  can  spend  a  couple  of 
months  during  this  summer  and  autumn  searching  the 
woods  and  byways  for  native  plants  for  the  restora- 
tion. This  reservoir  building  is  your  opportunity ;  you 
can  rob  the  river  valley  with  impunity,  for  the  clearing 
will  begin  in  October,  consequently  anything  you  take 
will  be  in  the  line  of  a  rescue.  So  there  you  are  — 
living  in  the  fresh  air,  improving  your  place,  and 
saving  money  at  both  ends.' 

"  '  By  George !  It  sounds  well,  as  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned !'  ejaculated  Bart,  'but  how  will  such  a  scheme 
give  Mary  a  vacation  from  housekeeping  and  the  ever- 
lasting three  meals  a  day?  She  seldom  growls,  but 
the  last  month  she  too  has  confessed  to  feeling  tired.' 

" '  I  think  it's  a  perfectly  fascinating  idea,  but  how 


60  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

will  it  give  Bart  a  "complete  change,  away  from  the 
sound  of  the  beat  of  time,"  as  the  doctor  puts  it?'  I 
asked  with  more  eagerness  than  I  realized,  for  I  al- 
ways dislike  to  be  far  away  from  home  at  night,  and 
you  see  there  has  been  whooping  cough  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  there  are  also  green  apples  to  be  reckoned 
with  in  season,  even  though  the  Infant  has  long  ago 
passed  safely  through  the  mysteries  of  the  second 
summer. 

"  The  Man  from  Everywhere  did  not  answer  Bart  at 
all,  but,  turning  to  me  with  the  air  of  a  paternal  sage 
and  pointing  an  authoritative  forefinger,  said,  some- 
what sarcastically,  I  thought,  'What  greater  change 
can  an  American  have  than  leisure  in  which  to  enjoy 
his  own  home?  For  giving  Time  the  slip,  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  stop  the  clocks  and  follow  the  sun 
and  your  own  inclinations.  As  to  living  out  of  doors, 
the  old  open-sided  hay  barn  on  the  pasture  side  of 
the  knoll,  that  you  have  not  decided  whether  to  re- 
build or  tear  down,  will  make  an  excellent  camp. 
Aside  from  the  roof,  it  is  as  open  as  a  hawk's  nest. 
Don't  hurry  your  decision;  incubate  the  idea  over 
Sunday,  Madam  Penrose,  and  I'll  warrant  by  Monday 
you  will  have  hatched  a  really  tangible  plan,  if  not  a 
brood  of  them.' 


THEIR   GARDEN   VACATION  61 

"  I  looked  at  Bart,  he  nodded  back  approvingly,  so 
I  slipped  out,  first  to  see  that  the  Infant  was  sleeping 
properly,  head  up,  and  not  down  under  the  clothes,  as 
I  had  once  found  her,  and  then  to  walk  to  and  fro 
under  the  budding  stars  for  inspiration,  leaving  the 
pair  to  talk  the  men's  talk  that  is  so  good  and  nourish- 
ing for  a  married  man  like  Bart,  no  matter  how  much 
he  cares  for  the  Infant  and  me. 

"  Jumbled  up  as  the  garden  is,  the  spring  twilight 
veils  all  deficiencies  and  releases  persuasive  odours 
from  every  corner,  while  the  knoll,  with  its  gnarled 
trees  outlined  against  the  sky,  appealed  to  me  as 
never  before,  a  thing  desirable  and  to  be  restored  and 
preserved  even  at  a  cost  rather  than  obliterated. 

" '  Oh,  Mrs.  Evan,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  The 
Man's  plan  touches  me  and  seems  made  for  me  es- 
pecially this  spring.  I  seem  fairly  to  have  a  passion 
for  home  and  the  bit  of  earth  about  and  sky  above  it 
that  is  all  our  own.  And  unlike  other  times  when  I 
loved  to  have  my  friends  come  and  visit  me,  and  share 
and  return  the  hospitality  of  neighbours,  I  want  to  be 
alone  with  myself  and  Bart,  to  spend  long  days  under 
the  sky  and  trees  and  have  nothing  come  between  our 
real  selves  and  God,  not  even  the  ticking  and  dictation 
of  a  clock !  There  is  so  much  that  I  want  to  tell  my 


62  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

husband  just  now,  that  cannot  be  put  in  words,  and 
that  he  may  only  read  by  intuition.  When  I  was 
younger  and  first  married,  I  did  not  feel  this  need  so 
much,  but  now  life  seems  to  take  on  so  much  deeper  a 
meaning!  Do  you  understand?  Ah,  yes,  I  know  you 
do !  But  I  am  wandering  from  the  point,  just  as  I 
yearn  to  wander  from  all  the  stringencies  of  life  this 
summer. 

"  Evidently  seeing  me,  the  Rural  Delivery  man 
whistled  from  his  cart,  instead  of  leaving  the  evening 
mail  in  its  wren  box,  as  usual.  I  went  to  the  gate 
rather  reluctantly,  I  was  so  absorbed  in  garden  dreams, 
took  the  letters  from  the  carrier,  and,  as  the  men  were 
still  sitting  in  the  dark,  carried  them  up  to  the  lamp  in 
my  own  sitting  room,  little  realizing  that  even  at  that 
moment  I  was  holding  the  key  to  the  'really  tangible 
plan'  in  my  hand. 


"  The  next  morning.  Two  of  the  letters  I  received  on 
Saturday  night  would  have  been  of  great  importance 
if  we  were  still  planning  to  go  away  for  a  vacation, 
instead  of  hoping  to  stay  at  home  for  it.  The  first, 
from  mother,  told  me  that  she  and  my  brother  expect 
to  spend  the  summer  in  taking  a  journey,  in  which 
Alaska  is  to  be  the  turning-point.  She  begs  us  to  go 


THEIR    GARDEN    VACATION  63 

with  them  and  offers  to  give  me  her  right-hand- reliable, 
Jane  McElroy,  who  cared  for  me  when  a  baby,  to  stay 
here  with  the  Infant.  The  second  letter  .was  from 
Maria  Maxwell,  a  distant  cousin  of  Bart's.  She  has 
also  heard  of  our  intended  vacation,  —  indeed  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  news  travels  and  the  interest 
it  causes  are  good  proofs  of  our  stay-at-home  tenden- 
cies and  the  general  sobriety  of  our  six  years  of  matri- 
mony ! 

"  Maria  is  a  very  bright,  adaptable  woman  of  about 
thirty-five,  who  teaches  music  in  the  New  York  public 
schools,  is  alone  in  the  world,  and  manages  to  keep  an 
attractive  home  in  a  mere  scrap  of  a  flat.  When  she 
comes  to  visit  us,  we  like  her  as  well  the  last  day  of  her 
stay  as  the  first,  which  fact  speaks  volumes  for  her 
character!  Though  forced  by  circumstances  to  live 
in  town,  she  has  a  deep  love  for  the  country,  and  wishes, 
if  we  intend  to  leave  the  house  open,  to  come  and  care 
for  it  in  our  absence,  even  offering  to  cook  for  herself 
if  we  do  not  care  to  have  the  expense  of  a  maid,  say- 
ing, 'to  cook  a  real  meal,  with  a  real  fire  instead  of 
gas,  will  be  a  great  and  refreshing  change  for  me,  so 
you  need  feel  under  no  obligation  whatever !' 

"  Thinking  of  the  pity  of  wasting  such  tempting  offers 
as  these,  I  went  to  church  with  my  body  only,  my 


64  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

mind  staying  outside  under  a  horse-chestnut  tree,  and 
instead  of  listening  as  I  should,  I  looked  sidewise  out 
of  the  window  at  my  double  in  the  shade  and  won- 
dered if,  after  all,  the  stay-at-home  vacation  was 
not  a  wild  scheme.  There  being  a  Puritan  streak  in 
me,  via  my  father,  I  sometimes  question  the  right  of 
what  I  wish  to  do  simply  because  I  like  to  do  it. 

"  At  dinner  I  was  so  grumpy,  answering  in  mono- 
syllables, that  sensitive  Bart  looked  anxious,  and  as 
if  he  thought  I  was  disappointed  at  the  possible  turn 
of  affairs,  but  The  Man  from  Everywhere  laughed,  say- 
ing, 'Let  her  alone;  she  is  not  through  incubating  the 
plan,  and  you  know  the  best  of  setting  hens  merely 
cluck  and  growl  when  disturbed.' 

"  Immediately  after  dinner  Bart  and  The  Man  went 
for  a  walk  up  the  river  valley,  and  I,  going  to  the  living 
room,  seated  myself  by  the  window,  where  I  could 
watch  the  Infant  playing  on  the  gravel  outside,  it 
being  the  afternoon  out  of  both  the  general  maid 
Anastasia  and  Barney  the  man,  between  whom  I 
suspect  matrimonial  intentions. 

"The  singing  of  the  birds,  the  hum  of  bees  in  the 
opening  lilacs,  and  the  garden  fragrance  blending  with 
the  Infant's  prattle,  as  she  babbled  to  her  dolls,  floated 
through  the  open  door  and  made  me  drowsy,  and  I 


THEIR   GARDEN  VACATION  65 

turned  from  the  light  toward  the  now  empty  fire- 
place. 

"A  snap  !  and  the  air  seemed  suddenly  exhilarating ! 
Was  it  an  electric  spark  from  the  telephone?  No, 
simply  the  clarifying  of  the  thoughts  that  had  been 
puzzling  me. 

"  Maria  Maxwell  shall  come  during  our  vacations,  — 
at  that  moment  I  decided  to  separate  the  time  into 
several  periods,  —  she  shall  take  entire  charge  of  all 
within  doors. 

"  Bart  and  I  will  divide  off  a  portion  of  the  old  hay- 
barn  with  screens,  and  camp  out  there  (unless  in  case 
of  very  bad  thunder  or  one  of  the  cold  July  storms  that 
we  sometimes  have).  Anastasia  shall  serve  us  a  very 
simple  hot  dinner  at  noon  in  the  summer  kitchen,  and 
keep  a  supply  of  cooked  food  in  the  pantry,  from 
which  we  can  arrange  our  breakfasts  and  suppers  in 
the  opposite  side  of  the  barn  from  our  sleeping  place, 
and  there  we  can  have  a  table,  chairs,  and  a  little  oil 
stove  for  making  tea  and  coffee. 

"Maria,  besides  attending  to  domestic  details,  must 
also  inspect  the  mail  and  only  show  us  letters  when 
absolutely  necessary,  as  well  as  to  say  'not  at  home,' 
with  the  impenetrable  New  York  butler  manner  to 
every  one  who  calls. 


66  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

"  Thus  Bart  and  I  will  be  equally  free  without  the 
rending  of  heart  strings — free  to  love  and  enjoy  home 
from  without,  for  it  is  really  strange  when  one  comes 
to  think  of  it,  we  learn  of  the  outside  world  by  looking 
out  the  windows,  but  we  so  seldom  have  time  to  stand 
in  another  view-point  and  look  in.  Thus  it  occurred 
to  me,  instead  of  taking  one  long  vacation,  we  can 
break  the  time  into  three  or  four  in  order  to  follow 
the  garden  seasons  and  the  work  they  suggest.  A  bit 
at  the  end  of  May  for  both  planning  and  locating 
the  spring  wild  flowers  before  they  have  wholly  shed 
their  petals,  and  so  on  through  the  season,  ending  in 
October  by  the  transplanting  of  trees  and  shrubs  that 
we  have  marked  and  in  setting  out  the  hardy  roses, 
for  which  we  shall  have  made  a  garden  according  to 
the  plan  that  Aunt  Lavinia  says  is  to  be  among  the 
early  Garden,  You,  and  I  records. 

"  May  15.  Maria  Maxwell  has  joyfully  agreed  to 
come  the  twenty-first,  having  obtained  a  substitute  for 
her  final  week  of  teaching,  as  well  as  rented  her  'par- 
lor car,'  as  she  calls  her  flat,  to  a  couple  of  students 
who  come  from  the  South  for  change  of  air  and  to 
attend  summer  school  at  Columbia  College.  It  seems 
that  many  people  look  upon  New  York  as  a  summer 
watering  place.  Strange  that  a  difference  in  climate 
can  be  merely  a  matter  of  point  of  view. 


THEIR    GARDEN   VACATION  67 

"  Now  that  we  have  decided  to  camp  out  at  home, 
we  are  beginning  to  realize  the  positive  economy  of  the 
arrangement,  for  as  we  are  not  going  among  people,  — 
neither  are  they  coming  to  us,  —  we  shall  need  no  new 
clothes ! 

"  We,  a  pair  of  natural  spendthrifts,  are  actually 
turning  miserly  for  the  garden's  sake. 

"Last  night  Bart  went  to  the  attic  with  a  lantern 
and  dragged  from  obscurity  two  frightful  misfit  suits 
of  the  first  bicycle  cuff-on-the-pants  period,  that  were 
ripening  in  the  camphor  chest  for  future  missionary 
purposes,  announcing  that  these,  together  with  some 
flannel  shirts,  would  be  his  summer  outfit,  while  this 
morning  I  went  into  town  and  did  battle  at  a  sale  of 
substantial,  dollar  shirt-waists,  and  turning  my  back 
upon  all  the  fascinations  of  little  girls'  frills  and  fur- 
belows, bought  stout  gingham  for  aprons  and  overalls, 
into  which  I  shall  presently  pop  the  Infant,  and  thus 
save  both  stitches  and  laundry  work. 

"  Mother  has  sent  a  note  expressing  her  pleasure  in 
our  plan  and  enclosing  a  cheque  for  $50,  suggesting 
that  it  should  be  put  into  a  birthday  rose  bed  —  my 
birthday  is  in  two  days  —  in  miniature  like  the  old 
garden  at  her  home  on  the  north  Virginia  border.  I'm 
sending  you  the  list  of  such  roses  as  she  remembered 


68  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

that  were  in  it,  but  I'm  sure  many,  like  Gloire  de 
Dijon,  would  be  winter  killed  here.  Will  you  revise 
the  list  forme? 

"  Bart  has  arranged  to  shut  off  the  back  hall  and 
stairs,  so  that  when  we  wish,  we  can  get  to  our  indoor 
bedroom  and  bath  at  any  hour  without  going  through 
the  house  or  disturbing  its  routine. 

"  Anastasia  has  been  heard  to  express  doubts  as  to 
our  entire  sanity  confidentially  to  Barney,  on  his  re- 
turn from  the  removal  of  two  cots  from  the  attic  to 
the  part  of  the  barn  enclosed  by  some  old  piazza. 
screens,  thereby  publicly  declaring  our  intention  of 
sleeping  out  in  all  seasonable  weather. 

"  May  20.  The  Blakes,  next  door  below,  are  going 
to  Europe,  and  have  offered  us  their  comfortable  family 
horse,  the  buggy,  and  a  light- work  wagon,  if  we  will 
feed,  shoe,  pet,  and  otherwise  care  for  him  (his  name, 
it  seems,  is  Romeo).  Could  anything  be  more  in 
keeping  with  both  our  desires  and  needs? 

"  To-day,  half  as  a  joke,  I've  sent  out  P.  P.  C.  cards 
to  all  our  formal  friends  in  the  county.  Bart  frowns, 
saying  that  they  may  be  taken  seriously  and  produce 
like  results ! 

"  May  22.  Maria  has  arrived,  taken  possession  of  the 
market-book,  housekeeping  box,  and  had  a  satisfac- 
tory conference  with  Anastasia. 


THEIR   GARDEN    VACATION  69 

"  Hurrah  for  Liberty  and  outdoors !  It  begins  to- 
morrow. You  may  label  it  Their  Garden  Vacation,  and 
admit  it  to  the  records  of  The  Garden,  You,  and  I, 
at  your  own  risk  and  peril ;  but  as  you  say  that  if  you 
are  to  boil  down  the  practical  part  of  your  garden- 
boke  experiences  for  the  benefit  of  Aunt  Lavinia  and 
me  and  I  must  send  you  my  summer  doings,  I  shall 
take  this  way* of  accomplishing  it,  at  intervals,  the 
only  regular  task,  if  gossiping  to  you  can  be  so  called, 
that  I  shall  set  myself  this  summer. 

"  A  new  moon  to-night.  Will  it  prove  a  second 
honeymoon,  think  you,  or  end  in  a  total  eclipse  of  our 
venture?  I'm  poppy  sleepy! 

"  May  23.  10  A.M.  (A  postal.)  Starting  on  vaca- 
tion; stopped  bedroom  clock  and  put  away  watches 
last  night,  and  so  overslept.  It  seems  quite  easy  to 
get  away  from  Time !  Please  tell  me  what  annuals 
I  can  plant  as  late  in  the  season  as  this,  while  we  are 
locating  the  rose  bed. 

"MARY  PENROSE." 


V 

ANNUALS  —  WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY 

THE   MIDSUMMER   GARDEN 

Oaklands,  May  25.  A  garden  vacation !  Fifty  dol- 
lars to  spend  for  roses !  What  annuals  may  be  planted 
now  to  tide  you  easily  over  the  summer?  Really,  Mary 
Penrose,  the  rush  of  your  astonishing  letter  completely 
took  away  my  breath,  and  while  I  was  recovering 
it  by  pacing  up  and  down  the  wild  walk,  and  trying 
to  decide  whether  I  should  answer  your  questions  first, 
and  if  I  did  which  one,  or  ask  you  others  instead, 
Scotch  fashion,  about  your  unique  summer  plans, 
Evan  came  home  a  train  earlier  than  usual,  with  a 
pair  of  horticultural  problems  for  which  he  needed 
an  immediate  solution. 

Last  evening,  in  the  working  out  of  these  schemes, 
we  found  that  we  were  really  travelling  on  lines  parallel 
with  your  needs,  and  so  in  due  course  you  shall  have 
Evan's  prescription  and  design  for  A  Simple  Rose 
Garden  (if  it  isn't  simple  enough,  you  can  begin  with 
half,  as  the  proportions  will  be  the  same),  while  I  now 
70 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY  71 

send  you  my  plans  for  an  inexpensive  midsummer 
garden,  which  will  be  useful  to  you  only  as  a  part  of 
the  whole  chain,  but  for  which  Evan  has  a  separate 
need. 

Over  at  East  Meadow,  a  suburb  of  Bridgeton  that 
lies  toward  the  shore  and  is  therefore  attractive  to 
summer  people,  a  friend  of  Evan's  has  put  up  a  dozen 
tasteful,  but  inexpensive,  Colonial  cottages,  and  Evan 
has  planned  the  grounds  that  surround  them,  about  an 
acre  being  allotted  to  each  house,  for  lawn  and  garden 
of  summer  vegetables,  though  no  arbitrary  boundaries 
separate  the  plots.  The  houses  are  intended  for 
people  of  refined  taste  and  moderate  means  who,  only 
being  able  to  leave  town  during  the  school  vacation, 
from  middle  June  to  late  September,  yet  desire  to 
have  a  bit  of  garden  to  tend  and  to  have  flowers  about 
them  other  than  the  decorative  but  limited  piazza, 
boxes  or  row  of  geraniums  around  the  porch. 

The  vegetable  gardens  consist  of  four  squares, 
conveniently  intersected  by  paths,  these  squares  to  be 
edged  by  annuals  or  bulbs  of  rapid  growth,  things  that, 
planted  in  May,  will  begin  to  be  interesting  when  the 
tenants  come  a  month  later. 

But  here  am  I,  on  the  verge  of  rushing  into  another 
theme,  without  having  expressed  our  disappointment 


72  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,   AND  I 

that  you  cannot  bear  us  company  this  summer,  yet  I 
must  say  that  the  edge  of  regret  is  somewhat  dulled 
by  my  interest  in  the  progress  and  result  of  your  garden 
vacation,  which  to  us  at  least  is  a  perfectly  unique  idea, 
and  quite  worthy  of  the  inventive  genius  of  The  Man 
from  Everywhere. 

Plainly  do  I  see  by  the  scope  of  this  same  letter  of 
yours  that  the  records  of  The  Garden,  You,  and  I, 
instead  of  being  a  confection  of  undistinguishable  in- 
gredients blended  by  a  chef  of  artistic  soul,  will  be  a 
home-made  strawberry  shortcake,  for  which  I  am  to 
furnish  the  necessary  but  uninspired  crust,  while  you 
will  supply  the  filling  of  fragrant  berries. 

With  the  beginning  of  your  vacation  begin  my  ques- 
tions domestic  that  threaten  to  overbalance  your  ques- 
tions horticultural.  If  the  Infant  should  wail  at  night, 
do  you  expect  to  stay  quietly  out  "in  camp"  and  not 
steal  on  tiptoe  to  the  house,  and  at  least  peep  in  at  the 
window?  Also,  you  have  put  a  match-making  thought 
in  a  head  swept  clean  of  all  such  clinging  cobwebs  since 
Sukey  Crandon  married  Carthy  Latham  and,  turn- 
ing their  backs  on  his  ranch  experiment,  they  decided  to 
settle  near  the  Bradfords  at  the  Ridge,  where  presently 
there  will  be  another  garden  growing.  If  you  have  no 
one  either  in  the  family  or  neighbourhood  likely  to 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY  73 

attract  The  Man  from  Everywhere,  why  may  we  not 
have  him  ?  Jane  Crandon  is  quite  unexpectedly  bright, 
as  frank  as  society  allows,  this  being  one  of  his  require- 
ments, besides  having  grown  very  pretty  since  she  has 
virtually  become  daughter  to  Mrs.  Jenks- Smith  and  had 
sufficient  material  in  her  gowns  to  allow  her  chest  to 
develop. 

But  more  of  this  later;  to  return  to  the  annuals,  I 
understand  that  you  have  had  your  hardy  beds  prepared 
and  that  you  want  something  to  brighten  them,  as 
summer  tenants,  until  early  autumn,  when  the  perma- 
nent residents  may  be  transplanted  from  the  hardy 
seed  bed. 

Annuals  make  a  text  fit  for  a  very  long  sermon. 
Verily  there  are  many  kinds,  and  the  topic  forms  easily 
about  a  preachment,  for  they  may  be  divided  summarily 
into  two  classes,  the  worthy  and  the  unworthy,  though  the 
worth  or  lack  of  it  in  annuals,  as  with  most  of  us  humans, 
is  a  matter  of  climate,  food,  and  environment,  rather  than 
inherent  original  sin.  The  truth  is,  nature,  though 
eternally  patient  and  good-natured,  will  not  be  hurried 
beyond  a  certain  point,  and  the  life  of  a  flower  that  is 
born  under  the  light  cloud  shelter  of  English  skies,  fed 
by  nourishing  mist  through  long  days  that  have  enough 
sunlight  to  stimulate  and  not  scorch,  has  a  different 


74  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

consummation  than  with  us,  where  the  climate  of  ex- 
tremes makes  the  perfection  of  flowers  most  uncertain, 
at  least  in  the  months  of  July  and  August  when  the 
immature  bud  of  one  day  is  the  open,  but  often  imper- 
fect, flower  of  the  next.  As  no  one  may  change  climatic 
conditions,  the  only  thing  to  be  done  is  to  give  to  this 
class  of  flowers  of  the  summer  garden  room  for  indi- 
vidual development,  all  the  air  they  need  to  breathe 
both  below  ground,  by  frequent  stirring  of  the  soil,  and 
above,  by  avoidance  of  over-crowding,  and  then  select 
only  those  varieties  that  are  really  worth  while. 

This  qualification  can  best  be  settled  by  pausing  and 
asking  three  questions,  when  confronting  the  alluring 
portrait  of  an  above-the-average  specimen  of  annual  in 
a  catalogue,  for  Garden  Goozle  applies  not  only  to 
the  literature  of  the  subject,  but  to  the  pictures  as  well, 
and  a  measurement  of,  for  instance,  a  flower  stalk  of 
Drummond  phlox,  taken  from  a  specimen  pot- grown 
plant,  raised  at  least  partly  under  glass,  is  sure  to  cause 
disappointment  when  the  average  border  plant  is 
compared  with  it. 

First  —  is  the  species  of  a  colour  and  length  of  flower- 
ing season  to  be  used  in  jungle- like  masses  for  summer 
colour  ?  Second  —  has  it  fragrance  or  decorative 
quality  for  house  decoration  ?  Thirdly,  has  it  the  back- 


ANNUALS— WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY     75 

bone  to  stand 'alone  or  will  the  plant  flop  and  flatten 
shapelessly  at  the  first  hard  shower  and  so  render  an 
array  of  conspicuous  stakes  necessary  ?  Stakes,  next  to 
unsightly  insecticides  and  malodorous  fertilizers,  are  the 
bane  of  gardening,  but  that  subject  is  big  enough  for  a 
separate  chronicle. 

By  ability  to  stand  alone,  I  do  not  mean  is  every 
branchlet  stiff  as  if  galvanized,  like  a  balsam,  for  this  is 
by  no  means  pretty,  but  is  the  plant  so  constructed  that 
it  can  languish  gracefully,  petunia  fashion,  and  not  fall 
over  stark  and  prone  like  an  uprooted  castor  bean. 
Hybridization,  like  physical  culture  in  the  human, 
has  .evidently  infused  grace  in  the  plant  races,  for 
many  things  that  in  my  youth  seemed  the  embodi- 
ment of  stiffness,  like  the  gladiolus,  have  developed 
suppleness,  and  instead  of  the  stiff  bayonet  spike  of 
florets,  this  useful  and  indefatigable  bulb,  if  left  to 
itself  and  not  bound  to  a  stake  like  a  martyr,  now 
produces  flower  sprays  that  start  out  at  right  angles, 
curve,  and  almost  droop,  with  striking,  orchid-like  effect. 

For  making  patches  of  colour,  without  paying  special 
heed  to  the  size  of  flower  or  development  of  individual 
plants,  annuals  may  be  sown  thinly  broadcast,  raked  in 
lightly,  and,  if  the  beds  or  borders  are  not  too  wide  for 
reaching,  thinned  out  as  soon  as  four  or  five  leaves 


76  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

appear.  Portulaca,  sweet  alyssum,  Shirley  poppies, 
and  the  annual  gaillardias  belong  to  this  class,  as  well  as 
single  petunias  of  the  inexpensive  varieties  used  to 
edge  shrubberies,  and  dwarf  nasturtiums. 

Sweet  peas,  of  course,  are  to  be  sown  early  and  deep, 
where  they  are  to  stand  half  an  inch  apart,  like  garden 
peas,  and  then  thinned  out  so  that  there  is  not  less  than 
an  inch  between  (two  is  better,  but  it  is  usually  heart- 
breaking to  pull  up  so  many  sturdy  pealets)  and  ree'n- 
forced  by  brush  or  wire  trellising.  Otherwise  I  plant 
the  really  worthy,  or  what  might  be  called  major  annuals, 
in  a  seed  bed  much  like  that  used  for  the  hardy  plants, 
at  intervals  during  the  month  of  May,  according  to 
the  earliness  of  the  season,  and  the  time  they  are  wanted 
to  bloom.  Later,  I  transplant  them  to  their  summer 
resting  places,  leaving  those  that  are  not  needed,  for 
it  is  dimcult  to  calculate  too  closely  without  scrimping, 
in  the  seed  bed,  to  cut  for  house  decoration,  as  with  the 
perennials.  Of  course  if  annuals  are  desired  for  very 
early  flowering,  many  species  may  be  started  in  a  hotbed 
and  taken  from  thence  to  the  borders.  Biennials  that 
it  is  desired  shall  flower  the  first  season  are  best  hurried 
in  this  way,  yet  for  the  gardenerless  garden  of  a  woman 
this  makes  o'er  muckle  work.  The  occasional  help  of 
the  "general  useful"  is  not  very  efficient  when  it 


ANNUALS— WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY    77 

comes  to  tending  hotbeds,  giving  the  exact  quantity 
of  water  necessary  to  quench  the  thirst  of  seedlings 
without  producing  dropsy,  and  the  consequent  "damping 
off  "  which,  when  it  suddenly  appears,  seems  as  intan- 
gible and  makes  one  feel  as  helpless  as  trying  to  check  a 
backing  horse  by  helpless  force  of  bit.  A  frame  for 
Margaret  carnations,  early  asters,  and  experiments  in 
seedling  Dahlias  and  chrysanthemums  will  be  quite 
enough. 

The  woman  who  lives  all  the  year  in  the  country 
can  so  manage  that  her  spring  bulbs  and  hardy  borders, 
together  with  the  roses,  last  well  into  July.  After  this 
the  annuals  must  be  depended  upon  for  ground  colour, 
and  to  supplement  the  phloxes,  gladioli,  Dahlias,  and 
the  like.  By  the  raising  of  these  seeds  in  hotbeds  they 
are  apt  to  reach  their  high  tide  of  bloom  during  the 
most  intense  heat  of  August,  when  they  quickly  mature 
and  dry  away;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  they  are 
reared  in  an  open-air  seed  bed,  they  are  not  only 
stronger  but  they  last  longer,  owing  to  more  deliberate 
growth.  Asters  sown  out-of-doors  in  May  bloom  well 
into  October,  when  the  forced  plants  barely  outlast 
August. 

Of  many  annuals  it  is  writ  in  the  catalogues,  "sow 
at  intervals  of  two  weeks  or  a  month  for  succession." 


78  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

This  sounds  very  plausible,  for  are  not  vegetables  so 
dealt  with,  the  green  string- beans  in  our  garden  being 
always  sown  every  two  weeks  from  early  April  until 
September  first?  Yes,  but  to  vegetables  is  usually 
given  fresher  and  deeper  soil  for  the  crop  succession 
than  falls  to  flower  seeds,  and  in  addition  the  seeds  are 
of  a  more  rugged  quality. 

My  garden  does  not  take  kindly  to  this  successive 
sowing,  and  I  have  gradually  learned  to  control 
the  flower-bearing  period  by  difference  in  location. 
Spring,  and  in  our  latitude  May,  is  the  time  of  universal 
seed  vitality,  and  seeds  germinating  then  seem  to  possess 
the  maximum  of  strength;  in  June  this  is  lessened, 
while  a  July- sown  seed  of  a  common  plant,  such  as  a 
nasturtium  or  zinnia,  seems  to  be  impressed  by  the  late- 
ness of  the  season  and  often  flowers  when  but  a  few 
inches  high,  the  whole  plant  having  a  weazened,  preco- 
cious look,  akin  to  the  progeny  of  people,  or  higher 
animals,  who  are  either  born  out  of  due  season  or  of 
elderly  parents.  On  the  other  hand,  the  plant  re- 
tarded in  its  growth  by  a  less  stimulating  location, 
when  it  blooms,  is  quite  as  perfect  and  of  equal  quality 
with  its  seed-bed  fellows  who  were  transplanted  at  once 
into  full  sunlight. 

Take,  for  example,  mignonette,  which  in  the  larger 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY     79 

gardens  is  always  treated  by  successive  sowings.  A 
row  sown  early  in  April,  in  a  sunny  spot  in  the  open  gar- 
den and  thinned  out,  will  flower  profusely  before  very 
hot  weather,  bloom  itself  out,  and  then  leave  room  for 
some  late,  flowering  biennial.  That  sown  in  the 
regular  seed  bed  early  in  May  may  be  transplanted  (for 
this  is  the  way  by  which  large  trusses  of  bloom  may  be 
obtained)  early  in  June  into  three  locations,  using  it  as 
a  border  for  taller  plants,  except  in  the  bed  of  sweet 
odours,  where  it  may  be  set  in  bunches  of  a  dozen 
plants,  for  in  this  bed  individuality  may  be  allowed  to 
blend  in  a  universal  mass  of  fragrance. 

In  order  to  judge  accurately  of  the  exact  capabilities 
for  shade  or  sunlight  of  the  different  portions  of  a  garden, 
one  must  live  with  it,  follow  the  shadows  traced  by  the 
tree  fingers  on  the  ground  the  year  through,  and  know 
its  moods  as  the  expressions  that  pass  over  a  familiar 
face.  For  you  must  not  transplant  any  of  these  annuals, 
that  only  live  to  see  their  sun  father  for  one  brief  sea- 
son, into  the  shade  of  any  tree  or  overhanging  roof, 
but  at  most  in  the  travelling  umbra  of  a  distant  object, 
such  as  a  tall  spruce,  the  northeastern  side  of  a  hedge,  or 
such  like. 

In  my  garden  one  planting  of  mignonette  in  full 
sun  goes  in  front  of  the  March- plan  ted  sweet  peas;  of 


8o  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

the  two  transplantings  from  the  seed,  one  goes  on  the 
southwest  side  of  the  rose  arbour  and  the  other  on  the 
upper  or  northeast  side,  where  it  blooms  until  it  is 
literally  turned  into  green  ice  where  it  stands. 

This  manipulation  of  annuals  belongs  to  the  realm 
of  the  permanent  resident;  the  summer  cottager  must 
be  content  to  either  accept  the  conditions  of  the  garden 
as  arranged  by  his  landlord,  or  in  a  brief  visit  or  two  made 
before  taking  possession,  do  his  own  sowing  where  the 
plants  are  to  stand.  In  this  case  let  him  choose  his 
varieties  carefully  and  spare  his  hand  in  thickness  of 
sowing,  and  he  may  have  as  many  flowers  for  his  table 
and  as  happy  an  experience  with  the  summer  garden, 
even  though  it  is  brief,  as  his  wealthy  neighbour  who 
spends  many  dollars  for  bedding  plants  and  foliage 
effects  that  may  be  neither  smelled,  gathered  nor  famil- 
iarized. 

Among  all  the  numerous  birds  that  flit  through 
the  trees  as  visitors,  or  else  stay  with  us  and  nest  in 
secluded  places,  how  comparatively  few  do  we  really 
depend  upon  for  the  aerial  colour  and  the  song  that 
opens  a  glimpse  of  Eden  to  our  eager  eyes  and  ears 
each  year,  for  our  eternal  solace  and  encouragement? 
There  are  some,  like  the  wood  thrush,  song- sparrow, 
oriole,  robin,  barn-swallow,  catbird,  and  wren,  without 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY     81 

which  June  would  not  be  June,  but  an  imperfect 
harmony  lacking  the  dominant  note. 

Down  close  to  the  earth,  yes,  in  the  earth,  the  same 
obtains.  Upon  how  few  of  all  the  species  of  annuals 
listed  does  the  real  success  of  the  summer  garden  rest  ? 
This  is  more  and  more  apparent  each  year,  when  the 
fittest  are  still  further  developed  by  hybridization  for 
survival  and  the  indifferent  species  drop  out  of  sight. 

We  often  think  erroneously  of  the  beauty  of  old-time 
gardens.  This  beauty  was  largely  that  of  consistency 
of  form  with  the  architecture  of  the  dwelling  and  sim- 
plicity, rather  than  the  variety,  of  flowers  grown. 
Maeterlinck  brings  this  before  us  with  forcible  charm 
in  his  essay  on  Old- Fashioned  Flowers,  and  even  now 
Martin  Cortright  is  making  a  little  biography  of  the 
flowers  of  our  forefathers,  as  a  birthday  surprise  for 
Lavinia.  These  flowers  depended  more  upon  individ- 
uality and  association  than  upon  their  great  variety. 

First  among  the  worthy  annuals  come  sweet  peas, 
mignonette,  nasturtiums,  and  asters,  each  one  of  the 
four  having  two  out  of  the  three  necessary  qualifications, 
and  the  sweet  pea  all  of  them,  —  fragrance  and  decora- 
tive value  for  both  garden  and  house.  To  be  sure,  the 
sweet  pea,  though  an  annual,  must  be  planted  before 
May  if  a  satisfactory,  well-grown  hedge  with  flowers 


82  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

held  on  long  stems  well  above  the  foliage  is  to  be  expected, 
and  in  certain  warm,  well-drained  soils  it  is  practicable 
to  sow  seed  the  autumn  before.  This  puts  the  sweet 
pea  a  little  out  of  the  running  for  the  hirer  of  a  summer 
cottage,  unless  he  can  have  access  to  the  place  early 
in  the  season,  but  sown  thinly  and  once  fairly  rooted 
and  kept  free  from  dead  flowers  and  pods,  the  vines 
will  go  on  yielding  quite  through  September,  though  on 
the  coming  of  hot  weather  the  flower  stems  shorten. 

I  often  plant  seeds  of  the  climbing  nasturtium  in  the 
row  with  the  sweet  peas  at  a  distance  of  one  seed  to  the 
fist,  the  planting  not  being  done  until  late  May.  The 
peas  mature  first,  and  after  the  best  of  their  season  has 
passed  they  are  supplanted  by  the  nasturtiums,  which 
cover  the  dry  vines  and  festoon  the  supporting  brush 
with  gorgeous  colour  in  early  autumn,  keeping  in  the 
same  colour  scheme  with  salvia,  sunflowers,  gaillardias, 
and  tritomas.  This  is  excellent  where  space  is  of 
account,  and  also  where  more  sweet  peas  are  planted 
for  their  early  yield  than  can  be  kept  in  good  shape  the 
whole  season.  Centaurea  or  cornflower,  the  bachelor's 
button  or  ragged  sailor  of  old  gardens,  is  in  the  front  rank 
of  the  worthies.  The  flowers  have  almost  the  keeping 
qualities  of  everlastings,  and  are  of  easy  culture,  while 
the  sweet  sultan,  also  of  this  family,  adds  fragrance  to 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY    83 

its  other  qualities.  The  blue  cornflower  is  best  sown 
in  a  long  border  or  bed  of  unconventional  shape,  and 
may  be  treated  like  a  biennial,  one  sowing  being  made  in 
September  so  that  the  seedlings  will  make  sturdy  tufts 
before  cold  weather.  These,  if  lightly  covered  with 
salt  hay  or  rough  litter  (not  leaves),  will  bloom  in  May 
and  June,  and  if  then  replaced  by  a  second  sowing, 
flowers  may  be  had  from  September  first  until  freezing 
weather,  so  hardy  is  this  true,  blue  Kaiser-blumen. 

All  the  poppies  are  worthy,  from  the  lovely  Shirley, 
with  its  butterfly- winged  petals,  to  the  Eschscholtzia, 
the  state  flower  of  California. 

One  thing  to  be  remembered  about  poppies  is  not 
to  rely  greatly  upon  their  durability  and  make  the 
mistake  of  expecting  them  to  fill  too  conspicuous  a 
place,  or  keep  long  in  the  marching  line  of  the  garden 
pageant.  They  have  a  disappointing  way,  especially 
the  great,  long-stemmed  double  varieties,  of  suddenly 
turning  to  impossible  party-coloured  mush  after  a  bit 
of  damp  weather  that  is  most  discouraging.  Treated 
as  mere  garden  episodes  and  massed  here  and  there 
where  a  sudden  disappearance  will  not  leave  a  gap, 
they  will  yield  a  feast  of  unsurpassed  colour. 

To  me  the  Shirley  is  the  only  really  satisfactory  annual 
poppy,  and  I  sow  it  in  autumn  and  cover  it  after  the 


84  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

fashion  of  the  cornflower,  as  it  will  survive  anything  but 
an  open,  rainy  winter,  and  in  the  resulting  display  that 
lasts  the  whole  month  of  June  it  rivals  the  roses  in 
everything  but  perfume. 

Godetia  is  a  good  flower  for  half- shady  places  that  it 
is  difficult  to  fill,  and  rings  the  colour  change  from  white 
through  pink  to  crimson  and  carmine.  Marigolds 
hold  their  own  for  garden  colour,  but  not  for  gathering 
or  bringing  near  the  nose,  and  zinnias  meet  them  on  the 
same  plane. 

The  morning-glory  tribe  of  ipom&a  is  both  useful 
and  decorative  for  rapid-growing  screens,  but  heed 
should  be  taken  that  the  common  varieties  be  not 
allowed  to  scatter  their  seeds  at  random,  or  the  next 
season,  before  you  know  it,  every  plant  in  the  garden 
will  be  held  tight  in  their  insinuating  grasp.  Especially 
beautiful  are  the  new  Imperial  Japanese  morning  glories 
that  are  exquisitely  margined  and  fringed,  and  of  the 
size  and  pattern  of  rare  glass  wine  cups.  Petunias,  if 
judiciously  used,  and  of  good  colour,  belong  in  the  second 
grade  of  the  first  rank.  They  have  their  uses,  but  the 
family  has  a  morbid  tendency  to  run  to  sad,  half- 
mourning  hues,  and  I  have  put  a  black  mark  against 
it  as  far  as  my  own  garden  is  concerned. 

Drummond  phlox  deserves  especial  mention,  for  so 


ANNUALS— WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY    85 

wide  a  colour  range  has  it,  and  so  easy  is  its  growth  (if 
only  you  give  it  plenty  of  water  and  elbow  room,  and 
remember  that  a  crowded  Drummond  phlox  is  an 
unhappy  plant  of  short  life),  that  a  very  tasteful  group  of 
beds  could  be  made  of  this  flower  alone  by  a  careful 
selection  of  colours,  while  by  constant  cutting  for  the 
house  the  length  of  the  blooming  season  is  prolonged. 

The  dwarf  salvias,  too,  grow  readily  from  seed,  and 
balsams,  if  one  has  room,  line  up  finely  along  straight 
walks,  the  firm  blossoms  of  the  camelia-flowered  variety, 
with  their  delicate  rosettes  of  pink,  salmon,  and  laven- 
der, also  serving  to  make  novel  table  decorations  when 
arranged  in  many  ways  with  leaves  of  the  laurel, 
English  ivy,  or  fern  fronds. 

Portulaca,  though  cousin  to  the  objectionable 
"pusley,"  is  most  useful  where  mere  colour  is  wanted 
to  cover  the  ground  in  beds  that  have  held  early  tulips 
or  other  spring  bulbs,  as  well  as  for  covering  dry,  sandy 
spots  where  little  else  will  grow.  It  should  not  be 
planted  until  really  warm  weather,  and  therefore  may  be 
scattered  between  the  rows  of  narcissi  and  late  tulips 
when  their  tops  are  cut  off,  and  by  the  time  they  are 
quite  withered  and  done  away  with,  the  cheerful  por- 
tulaca,  feeding  upon  the  hottest  sunbeams,  will  begin 
to  cover  the  ground,  a  pleasure  to  the  eye  as  well  as  a 


86  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

decorative  screen  to  the  bulbs  beneath,  sucking  the  fierc- 
est sun  rays  before  they  penetrate. 

Chief  among  the  low-growing  worthies  comes  the  ver- 
bena, good  for  bedding,  good  for  cutting,  and  in  some 
of  the  mammoth  varieties  subtly  fragrant.  Verbenas 
may  be  raised  to  advantage  in  a  hotbed,  but  if  the  seed  be 
soaked  overnight  in  warm  water,  it  will  germinate  freely 
out  of  doors  in  May  and  be  a  mass  of  bloom  from  July 
until  late  October.  For  beds  grouped  around  a  sun- 
dial or  any  other  garden  centre,  the  verbena  has  no  peer ; 
its  trailing  habit  gives  it  grace,  the  flowers  are  borne 
erect,  yet  it  requires  no  staking  and  it  is  easily  controlled 
by  pinching  or  pinning  to  the  soil  with  stout  hair- 
pins. 

One  little  fragrant  flower,  fraught  with  meaning  and 
remembrance,  belongs  to  the  annuals,  though  its  family 
is  much  better  known  among  the  half-hardy  perennials 
that  require  winter  protection  here.  This  is  the 
gold  and  brown  annual  wall- flower,  slender  sister  of 
die  gelbe  violet,  and  having  that  same*  subtle  violet 
odour  in  perfect  degree.  It  cannot  be  called  a  decora- 
tive plant,  but  it  should  have  plenty  of  room  given  it  in 
the  bed  of  sweet  odours  and  be  used  as  a  border  on  the 
sunny  side  of  wall  or  fence,  where,  protected  from  the 
wind  and  absorbing  every  ray  of  autumn  sunlight,  it 


ANNUALS  —  WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY     87 

will  often  give  you  at  least  a  buttonhole  bouquet  on 
Christmas  morning. 

The  cosmos  is  counted  by  catalogues  and  culturists 
one  of  the  most  worthy  of  the  newer  annuals,  and  so 
it  is  when  it  takes  heed  to  its  ways  and  behaves  its 
best,  but  otherwise  it  has  all  the  terrible  uncertainty 
of  action  common  to  human  and  garden  parvenues. 
From  the  very  beginning  of  its  career  it  is  a  conspicu- 
ous person,  demanding  room  and  abundance  of  food. 
Thinking  that  its  failure  to  bloom  until  frost  threatened 
was  because  I  had  sown  the  seed  out  of  doors  in  May, 
I  gave  it  a  froht  room  in  my  very  best  hotbed  early  in 
March,  where,  long  before  the  other  occupants  of  the 
place  were  big  enough  to  be  transplanted,  Mrs.  Cos- 
mos and  family  pushed  their  heads  against  the  sash 
and  insisted  upon  seeing  the  world.  Once  in  the 
garden,  they  throve  mightily,  and  early  in  July,  at  a 
time  when  I  had  more  flowers  than  I  needed,  the 
entire  row  threatened  to  bloom.  After  two  weeks  of 
coquettish  showing  of  colour  here  and  there,  up  and 
down  the  line,  they  concluded  that  midsummer  sun  did 
not  agree  with  any  of  the  shades  of  pink,  carmine,  or 
crimson  of  which  their  clothes  were  fashioned,  and  as 
for  white,  the  memory  of  recent  acres  of  field  daisies 
made  it  too  common,  so  they  changed  their  minds 


88  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  proceeded  to  grow  steadily  for  two  months. 
When  they  were  pinched  in  on  top,  they  simply 
expanded  sidewise ;  ordinary  and  inconspicuous  stak- 
ing failed  to  restrain  them,  and  they  even  pulled 
away  at  different  angles  from  poles  of  silver  birch  with 
stout  rope  between,  like  a  festive  company  of  bacchantes 
eluding  the  embraces  of  the  police.  A  heavy  wind 
storm  in  late  September  snapped  and  twisted  their 
hollow  trunks  and  branches.  Were  they  discouraged? 
Not  a  particle;  they  simply  rested  comfortably  upon 
whatever  they  had  chanced  to  fall  and  grew  again  from 
this  new  basis.  Meanwhile  the  plants  in  front  of  them 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way  began  to  feel  dis- 
couraged, and  a  fine  lot  of  asters,  now  within  the  shadow, 
were  attacked  by  facial  paralysis  and  developed  their 
blossoms  only  on  one  side. 

The  middle  of  October,  the  week  before  the  coming 
of  Black  Frost,  the  garden  executioner,  the  cosmos, 
now  heavy  with  buds,  settled  down  to  bloom.  Two 
large  jars  were  filled  with  them,  after  much  difficulty 
in  the  gathering,  and  then  the  axe  fell.  Sometimes,  of 
course,  they  behave  quite  differently,  and  those  who  can 
spare  ground  for  a  great  hedge  backed  by  wall  or  fence 
and  supported  in  front  by  pea  brush  deftly  insinuated 
betwixt  and  between  ground  and  plants,  so  that  it 


ANNUALS  —  WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY    89 

restrains,  but  is  at  the  same  time  invisible,  may  feast 
their  eyes  upon  a  spectacle  of  billows  of  white  and 
pink  that,  at  a  little  distance,  are  reminiscent  of  the 
orchards  of  May. 

But  if  you,  Mary  Penrose,  are  leaning  toward  cosmos 
and  reading  in  the  seed  catalogue  of  their  size  and  won- 
derful dawn-like  tints,  remember  that  the  best  of  highly 
hybridized  things  revert  unexpectedly  to  the  commonest 
type,  and  somewhere  in  this  family  of  lofty  Mexicans 
there  must  have  been  a  totally  irresponsible  wayside 
weed.  Then  turn  backward  toward  the  front  of  the 
catalogue,  find  the  letter  A,  and  buy,  in  place  of  cosmos, 
aster  seeds  of  every  variety  and  colour  that  your  pocket 
will  allow. 

Of  course  the  black  golden-rod  beetle  may  try  to 
dwell  among  the  aster  flowers,  and  the  aphis  that  are 
nursery  maids  to  the  ants  infest  their  roots ;  you  must 
pick  off  the  one  and  dig  sulphur  and  unslaked  lime 
deeply  into  the  soil  to  discourage  the  other,  but  what- 
ever labour  you  spend  will  not  be  lost. 

Other  annuals  there  are,  and  their  name  is  legion,  that 
are  pretty  enough,  perhaps,  and  well  adapted  to  special 
purposes,  like  the  decorative  and  curious  tassel  flower, 
cockscombs,  gourds,  four  o'clocks,  etc.,  and  the  great 
tribe  of  "everlastings"  for  those  people,  if  such  there 


90  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

be,  who  still  prefer  dried  things  for  winter  bouquets, 
when  an  ivy-wreathed  window  filled  with  a  succession  of 
bulbs,  ferns,  or  oxalis  is  so  easily  achieved !  It  is  too 
harsh,  perhaps,  to  call  these  minor  annuals  unworthy, 
but  as  they  are  unimportant  and  increase  the  labour 
rather  than  add  to  the  pleasure,  they  are  really  un- 
worthy of  admission  to  the  woman's  garden  where 
there  is  only  time  and  room  for  the  best  results. 

But  here  I  am  rambling  at  large  instead  of  plainly 
answering  your  question,  "What  annuals  can  we  plant 
as  late  as  this  (May  25)  while  we  are  locating  the  rose 
bed  ?  "  You  may  plant  any  or  all  of  them  up  to  the  first 
of  June,  the  success  of  course  depending  upon  a  long 
autumn  and  late  frosts.  No,  not  quite  all ;  the  tall-grow- 
ing sweet  peas  should  be  in  the  ground  not  later  than 
May  i  in  this  south  New  England  latitude,  though  in 
the  northern  states  and  Canada  they  are  planted  in 
June  as  a  matter  of  course.  Blanche  Ferry,  of  the 
brilliant  pink- and- white  complexion,  however,  will  do 
very  nicely  in  the  light  of  a  labour-saving  afterthought, 
as,  only  reaching  a  foot  and  a  half  high,  little,  if  any, 
brush  is  needed. 

We  found  your  rose  list  replete  with  charming 
varieties,  but  most  of  them  too  delicate  for  positive  suc- 
cess hereabouts.  I'm  sending  you  presently  the  list  for 


ASTERS  WELL  MASSED. 


ANNUALS  — WORTHY  AND  UNWORTHY    91 

a  fifty-dollar  rose  garden,  which  it  seems  is  much  in 
demand,  so  that  I've  adapted  my  own  experience  to  the 
simple  plan  that  Evan  drew  to  enlighten  amateur  rose 
lovers  and  turn  them  from  coveting  their  wealthy 
neighbours'  goods  to  spending  their  energy  in  pro- 
ducing covetable  roses  of  their  own  ! 

By  the  way,  I  send  you  my  own  particular  list  of 
Worthy  Annuals  to  match  the  hardy  plants  and  keep 
heights  and  colours  easily  before  you  until  your  own 
Garden  Book  is  formulated  and  we  can  compare 
notes.  (See  page  387.) 

You  forgot  to  tell  me  whether  you  have  decided  to 
keep  hens  or  not !  I  know  that  the  matter  has  been 
discussed  every  spring  since  you  have  lived  at  Woodridge. 
If  you  are  planning  a  hennery,  I  shall  not  encourage  the 
rosary,  for  the  days  of  a  commuter's  wife  are  not  long 
enough  for  both  without  encountering  nervous  prostra- 
tion on  the  immediate  premises. 

Some  problems  are  ably  solved  by  cooperation.  As 
I  am  a  devotee  of  the  ornamental  and  comfortable, 
Martha  Saunders  n<?e  Corkle  runs  a  cooperative  hen- 
yard  in  our  north  pasture  for  the  benefit  of  the  Cort- 
rights  and  ourselves  to  our  mutual  joy  ! 


VI 
THEIR   FORTUNATE  ESCAPE 

CONCERNING   EVERGREENS   AND   HENS 
(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 

June  5.  I  have  not  dipped  pen  in  ink  for  an  entire 
week,  which  has  been  one  of  stirring  events,  for  not  only 
have  we  wholly  emerged  from  indoor  life,  but  we  have 
had  a  hair-breadth  escape  from  something  that  not  only 
threatened  to  mar  the  present  summer,  but  to  cast  so 
heavy  a  shadow  over  the  garden  that  no  self-respecting 
flowers  could  flourish  even  under  the  thought  of  it. 
You  cannot  possibly  guess  with  what  we  were  threat- 
ened, but  I  am  running  ahead  of  myself. 

The  day  that  we  began  */  —  the  vacation  —  by  stop- 
ping the  clocks,  we  overslept  until  nine  o'clock.  When 
we  came  downstairs,  the  house  was  in  a  condition  of 
cheerful  good  order  unknown  to  that  hour  of  the  day. 

There  is  such  a  temperamental  difference  in  this 
mere  setting  things  to  rights.     It  can  be  done  so  that 
every  chair  has  a  stiffly  repellent  look,  and  the  conspicu- 
ous absence  of  dust  makes  one  painfully  conscious  that 
92 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  93 

it  has  not  always  been  thus,  while  the  fingers  inad- 
vertently stray  over  one's  attire,  plucking  a  shred  here 
and  a  thread  there.  Even  flowers  can  be  arranged  in  a 
vase  so  as  to  look  thoroughly  and  reproachfully  uncom- 
fortable, and  all  the  grace  and  meaning  crushed  out  of 
them.  But  Maria  Maxwell  has  the  touch  gracious  that 
makes  even  a  plainly  furnished  room  hold  out  detaining 
hands  as  you  go  through,  and  the  flowers  on  the  greeting 
table  in  the  hall  (yes,  Lavinia  Cortright  taught  me  that 
little  fancy  of  yours  during  her  first  visit),  though 
much  the  same  as  I  had  been  gathering  for  a  week 
past,  .wore  an  air  of  novelty  ! 

For  a  moment  we  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  look- 
ing about  and  getting  our  bearings,  as  guests  in  an 
unfamiliar  place  rather  than  householders.  It  flitted 
through  my  body  that  I  was  hungry,  and  one  of  the 
"must  be's"  of  the  vacation  country  was  that  we  were 
to  forage  for  breakfast.  At  the  same  time  Bart  saun- 
tered unconsciously  toward  the  mail- box  under  the  hat- 
rack  and  then,  suddenly  putting  his  hands  behind  him, 
turned  to  me  with  a  quizzical  expression,  saying:  "Let- 
ters are  forbidden,  I  know,  but  how  about  the  paper? 
Even  the  'Weekly  Tribune'  would  be  something;  you 
know  that  sheet  was  devised  for  farmers!" 

"  If  this  vacation  isn't  to  be  a  punishment,  but  a  pleas- 


94  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ure,  I  think  we  had  both  better  'have  what  we  want 
when  we  want  it' !"  I  replied,  for  at  that  moment  I 
spied  the  Infant  out  on  the  porch,  and  to  hug  her  lady- 
ship was  a  swiftly  accomplished  desire.  For  some  rea- 
son she  seemed  rather  astonished  at  this  very  usual  per- 
formance, and  putting  her  hands,  boy-fashion,  into  the 
pockets  of  her  checked  overalls,  surveyed  herself  de- 
liberately, and  then  looking  up  at  me  rather  reproach- 
fully remarked,  "Tousin  Maria  says  that  now  you  and 
father  are  tumpany !" 

"And  what  is  company?"  I  asked,  rather  anxious  to 
know  from  what  new  point  we  were  to  be  regarded. 

"Tumpany  is  people  that  comes  to  stay  in  the  pink 
room  wif  trunks,  and  we  play  wif  them  and  make  them 
do  somfing  to  amuse  'em  all  the  time  hard,  and  give  'em 
nicer  things  than  we  have  to  eat,  and  father  shaves 
too  much  and  tuts  him  and  wears  his  little  dinky  coat 
to  dinner.  And  by  and  by  when  they've  gone  away 
Ann-stasia  says,  'Glory  be  !'  and  muvver  goes  to  sleep. 
But  muvver,  if  you  are  the  tumpany,  you  can't  go  to 
sleep  when  you've  gone  away,  can  you?" 

A  voice  joined  me  in  laughter,  Maria  Maxwell's, 
from  inside  the  open  window  of  the  dining  room. 
Looking  toward  the  sound,  I  saw  that,  though  the  din- 
ing table  itself  had  been  cleared,  a  side  table  drawn  close 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  95 

to  the  window  was  set  with  places  for  two,  a  posy  of 
poets'  narcissus  and  the  last  lilies-of- the- valley  between, 
while  a  folded  napkin  at  one  place  rested  on  a  news- 
paper ! 

"I  thought  we  were  to  get  our  own  breakfasts,"  1 
said,  in  a  tone  of  very  feeble  expostulation,  which  plainly 
told  that,  at  that  particular  moment,  it  was  the  last 
thing  I  wished  to  do. 

"You  are,  the  very  minute  you  feel  like  it,  and  not 
before !  You  must  let  yourselves  down  gradually,  and 
not  bolt  out  of  the  house  as  if  you  had  been  evicted. 
If  Bart  went  paperless  and  letterless  this  very  first  morn- 
ing, until  he  has  met  something  that  interests  him  more, 
he  would  think  about  the  lack  of  the  news  and  the  mail 
all  day  until  they  became  more  than  usually  important !" 
So  saying,  Maria  swept  the  stems  and  litter  of  the  flowers 
she  had  been  arranging  into  her  apron,  and  annexing 
the  Infant  to  one  capable  finger,  all  the  other  nine  being 
occupied,  she  went  down  the  path  toward  the  garden 
for  fresh  supplies,  leaving  Ann-stasia,  as  the  Infant 
calls  her,  to  serve  the  coffee,  a  prerogative  of  which  she 
would  not  consent  to  be  bereft,  not  even  upon  the  plea 
of  lightening  her  labours! 

"Isn't  this  perfect!"  I  exclaimed,  looking  toward 
a  gap  in  the  hills  that  was  framed  by  the  debatable 


96  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

knoll  on  one  side  and  reached  by  a  short  cut  across 
the  old  orchard  and  abandoned  meadows  of  the  farm 
above,  the  lack  of  cultivation  resulting  in  a  wealth  of 
field  flowers. 

"Entirely!"  assented  Bart,  his  spoon  in  the  coffee 
cup  stirring  vigorously  and  his  head  enveloped  in  the 
newspaper.  But  what  did  the  point  of  view  matter: 
he  was  content  and  unhurried  —  what  better  beginning 
for  a  vacation  ?  In  fact  in  those  two  words  lies  the  real 
vacation  essence. 

Meanwhile,  as  I  munched  and  sipped,  with  luxurious 
irresponsibility,  I  watched  Maria  moving  to  and  fro 
between  the  shrubs  that  bounded  the  east  alley  of  the 
old  garden.  In  her  compressed  city  surroundings  she 
had  always  seemed  to  me  a  very  big  sort  of  person,  with 
an  efficiency  that  was  at  times  overpowering,  whose 
brown  eyes  had  a  "charge  bayonet"  way  of  fixing  one, 
as  if  commanding  the  attention  of  her  pupils  by  force 
of  eye  had  become  a  habit.  But  here,  her  most  cher- 
ished belongings  given  room  to  breathe  in  the  spare 
room  that  rambles  across  one  end  of  the  house,  while 
her  wardrobe  has  a  chance  to  realize  itself  in  the  deep 
closet,  Maria  in  two  short  days  had  become  another 
person. 

She  does  not  seem  large,  but  merely  well  built.    The 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  97 

black  gowns  and  straight  white  collars  that  she  always 
wore,  as  a  sort  of  professional  garb,  have  vanished 
before  a  shirtwaist  with  an  openwork  neck  and  half 
sleeves,  while  the  flesh  exposed  thereby  is  pink  and 
wholesome.  Hair  not  secured  for  the  wear  and  tear 
of  the  daily  rounds  of  school,  but  allowed  to  air  itself, 
requires  only  a  few  hair-pins,  and,  if  it  is  naturally  wavy, 
follows  its  own  will  with  good  effect.  While  as  to  her 
eyes,  what  in  them  seemed  piercing  at  short  range  melted 
to  an  engaging  frankness  in  the  soft  light  under  the  trees. 
In  short,  if  she  had  been  any  other  than  Maria  Maxwell, 
music  teacher,  Bart's  staid  cousin  and  the  avowed 
family  spinster,  I  should  have  thought  of  her  as  a  fine- 
looking  woman  who  only  needed  a  magic  touch  of 
some  sort  to  become  positively  handsome.  Coffee  and 
paper  finished,  I  became  aware  that  Bart  was  gazing 
at  me. 

"Well,"  I  said,  extending  my  hand,  "what  next?" 
I  had  speedily  made  up  my  mind  that  Bart  should 
take  the  initiative  in  our  camping-out  arrangement, 
and  I  therefore  did  not  suggest  that  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  set  our  camp  itself  in  order. 

"  Come  out,"  he  said,  taking  my  hand  in  the  same  way 
that  the  Infant  does  when  she  wishes  to  lead  the  way  to 
the  discovery  of  the  fairyland  that  lies  beyond  the  mead- 


98  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ows  of  the  farm.  So  we  sauntered  out.  Once  under  the 
sun,  the  same  delicious  thought  occurred  to  each  that, 
certain  prudences  having  been  seen  to,  we  were  for  the 
time  without  responsibilities,  and  the  fact  made  us  laugh 
for  the  very  freedom  of  it  and  pull  one  another  hither 
and  thither  like  a  couple  of  children. 

Meanwhile  the  word  knoll  had  not  been  uttered,  but 
our  feet  were  at  once  drawn  in  its  direction  by  an  ir- 
resistible force,  and  presently  we  found  ourselves  stand- 
ing at  the  lower  end  of  the  ridge  and  looking  up  the 
slope ! 

"I  wish  we  had  a  picture  of  it  as  it  must  have  been 
before  the  land  was  cleared,  —  it  would  be  a  great  help 
in  replanting,"  I  said;  "it  needs  something  dense  and 
bold  for  a  background  to  the  rocks." 

"The  skeleton  of  the  old  barn  on  the  other  side  spoils 
it;  it  ought  to  come  down,"  was  Bart's  rejoinder.  "It 
seems  as  if  everything  we  wish  to  do  hinges  on  some 
other  thing." 

This  barn  had  been  set  back  against  the  knoll  so  that 
from  the  house  the  hayloft  window  seemed  like  a  part  of 
a  low  shed.  Certainly  our  forbears  knew  the  ways  of 
the  New  England  wind  very  thoroughly,  judging  by  the 
way  they  huddled  their  houses  and  outbuildings  in 
hollows  or  under  hillsides  to  avoid  its  stress.  And 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  99 

when  they  couldn't  do  that,  they  turned  sloping,  hump- 
backed roofs  toward  tne  northeast  to  shed  'the  snow 
and  tempt  the  wind  in  its  wild  moods  to  play  leap- 
frog and  thus  pass  over. 

Such  a  roof  as  this  has  the  house  at  the  next  farm, 
and  judging  by  the  location  of  the  old  hay  barn,  and  the 
lay  of  the  road,  it  must  have  once  belonged  to  this  ad- 
joining property  rather  than  to  ours. 

Slowly  we  circled  the  knoll,  dropped  into  the  hollow, 
and  stood  upon  the  uneven  floor  of  wide  chestnut  planks 
that  was  to  be  our  camp.  Other  lodgers  had  this  barn 
besides  ourselves  and,  unlike  ourselves,  hereditary  ten- 
ants. Swallows  of  steel-blue  wings  hung  their  nests 
in  a  whispering  colony  against  the  beams,  a  pair  of  gray 
squirrels  arched  their  tails  at  us  and  chattering  whisked 
up  aloft,  where  they  evidently  have  a  family  in  the  dilapi- 
dated pigeon  cote,  while  among  some  cornstalks  and 
other  litter  in  the  low  earth  cellar  beneath  we  could 
hear  the  rustling  doubtless  bom  of  the  swift  little  feet 
of  mice.  (Yes,  I  know  that  it  is  a  feminine  quality 
lacking  in  me,  but  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  conjure 
up  any  species  of  fear  in  connection  with  these  playful 
little  rodents.) 

The  cots,  table,  chairs,  and  screens  were  as  I  had 
placed  them  several  days  ago ;  but  it  was  not  the  interior 


102  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

Bart's  knees,  as  he  lit  his  pipe,  that  it  was  by  mere 
chance  that  Romeo  took  the  right  turn. 

"No,  I  never  thought  of  them ;  this  is  merely  a  pros- 
pecting trip.  Did  you  put  in  the  lunch?" 

I  was  obliged  to  confess  that  I  had  not,  but  later  on 
a  box  of  sandwiches  was  found  under  the  seat  in  com- 
pany with  Romeo's  nose- bag  of  oats,  this  indication 
being  that,  as  Barney  alone  knew  directly  of  our  desti- 
nation, he  must  have  informed  Anastasia,  who  took  pity, 
regarding  us,  as  she  does,  as  a  cross  between  lunatics 
and  the  babes  in  the  woods. 

We  chose  byways,  and  only  crossed  the  macadamized 
highroad,  that  haunt  of  automobiles,  once,  and  after  an 
hour's  sauntering  crossed  the  river  and  drove  into  the 
woodlots  to  the  north  of  it,  now  the  property  of  the  water 
company,  who  have  already  posted  warning  to  trespass- 
ers. We  straightway  began  to  trespass,  seeing  The 
Man  from  Everywhere  on  horseback  coming  down  to 
meet  us. 

Without  an  apparent  change  of  soil  or  altitude,  the 
scenery  at  once  grew  more  bold  and  dramatic. 

"What  is  it?"  I  said.  "We  have  been  driving 
through  lanes  lined  by  dogwood  and  yet  that  little  tree 
below  and  the  scrubby  bit  of  hillside  make  a  more  per- 
fect picture  than  any  we  have  seen  1" 


THE  PICTORIAL  VALUE  OF  EVERGREENS. 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  103 

Bart,  who  had  left  the  buggy  and  was  walking  beside 
it  with  The  Man,  who  had  dismounted  and  led  his  nag, 
turned  and  looked  backward,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  It  is  the  evergreens  that  give  it  the  quality,"  said  The 
Man,  "even  though  they  are  only  those  stiff  little  Noah 's- 
ark  cedars.  I  notice  it  far  and  wide,  wherever  I  go; 
a  landscape  is  never  monotonous  so  long  as  there  is  a 
pine,  spruce,  hemlock,  or  bit  of  a  cedar  to  bind  it  to- 
gether. I  believe  that  is  why  I  am  never  content  for 
long  in  the  land  of  palms !" 

"I  love  evergreens  in  winter,  but  I've  never  thought 
much  about  them  in  the  growing  leafy  season;  they 
seem  unimportant  then,"  I  said. 

"Unimportant  or  not,  they  are  still  there.  Look  at 
that  wall  of  trees  rising  across  the  river !  Every  conceiv- 
able tint  of  green  is  there,  besides  shades  of  pink  and 
lavender  in  leaf  case  and  catkin,  but  what  dominates 
and  translates  the  whole?  The  great  hemlocks  on  the 
crest  and  the  dark  pointed  cedars  of!  on  the  horizon 
where  the  woodland  thins  toward  the  pastures. 
Whether  you  separate  them  or  not,  they  are  there. 
People  are  only  just  beginning  to  understand  the  value 
of  evergreens  in  their  home  gardens,  both  as  wind- 
breaks and  backgrounds.  No,  I  don't  mean  stark, 
isolated  specimens,  stiff  as  Christmas  trees.  You  have 


io4  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

a  magnificent  chance  to  use  them  on  that  knoll  of 
yours  that  you  are  going  to  restore ! " 

As  he  was  speaking  I  thought  Bart  paid  very  scant 
attention,  but  following  his  pointing  finger  I  at  once  saw 
what  had  absorbed  him.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river,  extending  into  the  brush  lots,  was  a  knoll  the  size 
and  counterpart  of  ours,  even  in  the  way  that  it  lay  by 
the  compass,  only  this  was  untouched,  as  nature  planned 
it,  and  the  model  for  our  restoration. 

"Do  you  clear  the  land  as  far  back  as  this?"  Bart 
asked  of  The  Man,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  land,  but  for  the 
boulders  and  loose  rock  on  those  ledges;  all  the  rock 
hereabout  will  be  little  enough  for  our  masonry  1" 

"Then,"  said  Bart,  "I'm  going  to  transplant  the 
growth  on  this  knoll,  root  and  branch,  herb  and  shrub, 
moss  and  fern,  to  our  own,  if  it  takes  me  until  Christ- 
mas !  It  isn't  often  that  a  man  finds  an  illustrated  plan 
with  all  the  materials  for  carrying  it  out  under  his  hand 
for  merely  the  taking.  There  are  enough  young  hem- 
locks up  there  to  windbreak  our  whole  garden.  The 
thing  I'm  not  sure  about  is  just  when  it  will  do  to  begin 
the  transplanting.  Meanwhile  I'll  make  a  list  of  the 
plants  we  know  that  we  can  add  to  as  others  develop  and 
blossom." 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE          105 

So  he  set  to  work  on  his  list  then  and  there,  The  Man 
from  Everywhere  helping,  because  he  can  name  a  plant 
from  its  leaves  or  even  the  twigs. 

I  said  that  I  would  write  to  you  at  once  and  ask  you  or 
Evan  to  tell  us  about  the  best  way  to  transplant  all  the 
wild  things,  except  woody  shrubs  and  trees,  because  we 
know  it's  best  to  wait  for  those  until  leaf  fall.  But  as 
it  turns  out,  I've  waited  six  days  —  oh  !  such  aggravat- 
ing days  when  there  is  so  much  to  decide  and  do ! 

That  afternoon  The  Man  rode  home  with  us,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  we  quite  forgetting  that  instead  of 
late  dinner,  as  usual,  the  meal  would  be  tea,  as  the 
Infant  and  Maria  Maxwell  are  to  dine  now  at  one ! 
As  a  shower  threatened,  it  seemed  much  more  natural 
for  us  to  turn  into  the  house  than  the  camp,  and  before 
I  knew  how  it  happened  I  was  sitting  at  the  head  of  my 
own  table  serving  soup  instead  of  tea !  I  dared  not  look 
at  Maria,  but  as  the  meal  was  nearly  ended  she  remarked 
demurely,  looking  out  of  the  west  window  to  where  the 
shower  was  passing  off  slantwise,  leaving  a  glorious 
sunset  trail  in  its  wake,  "  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  your 
coffee  in  camp,  as  the  rain  forced  you  to  take  dinner  in- 
doors?" by  which  I  knew  that  Maria  would  not  allow 
us  to  lose  sight  of  our  outdoor  intentions. 

Bart  laughed,  and  The  Man,  gazing  around  the  table 


106  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

innocently  said,  "Oh,  has  it  begun,  and  am  I  intruding 
and  breaking  up  plans?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

So  we  went  out  through  the  sweet- smelling  twilight, 
or  rather  the  glow  that  comes  before  it,  and  as  we  idly 
sipped  the  coffee,  lo  and  behold,  the  old  farm  lay  before 
us — a  dream  picture  painted  by  the  twilight !  The  little 
window-panes,  iridescent  with  age  and  bulged  into  odd 
shapes  by  yielding  sashes,  caught  the  sunset  hues  and 
turned  to  fire  opals ;  the  light  mist  rising  over  the  green 
meadows  where  the  flowers  now  slept  with  heads  bent 
and  eyes  closed  lent  the  green  and  pearl  tints  of  those 
mysterious  gems  to  which  drops  of  rain  or  dew  strung 
everywhere  made  diamond  settings. 

"By  Jove!"  exclaimed  Bart,  "how  beautiful  the 
Opie  farm  looks  to-night !  If  a  real- estate  agent  could 
only  get  a  photograph  of  what  we  see,  we  should  soon 
have  a  neighbour  to  rescue  the  place !" 

"You  mustn't  call  it  the  Opie  farm  any  more;  it 
is  Opal  Farm  from  to-night!"  I  cried,  "and  no  one 
snail  buy  it  unless  they  promise  to  leave  in  the  old  win- 
dows and  let  the  meadow  and  crab  orchard  stay  as 
they  are,  besides  giving  me  right  of  way  through  it 
quite  down  to  the  river  woods !" 

But  to  get  back  by  this  circuitous  route  to  the  threat- 
ened danger  with  which  I  opened  this  letter  — 


THEIR   FORTUNATE   ESCAPE         107 

The  postman  whistled,  as  he  has  an  alluring  way  of 
doing  when  he  brings  the  evening  mail,  always  hoping 
that  some  one  will  come  out  for  a  bit  of  evening  gossip, 
in  which  he  is  rarely  disappointed. 

We  all  started  to  our  feet,  but  Maria,  whose  special 
duty  it  had  become  to  look  over  the  mail,  distanced  us  all 
by  taking  a  short  cut,  regardless  of  wet  grass. 

Talk  branched  into  divers  pleasant  ways,  and  we  had 
almost  forgotten  her  errand  when  she  returned  and, 
breaking  abruptly  into  the  conversation,  said  to  Bart, 
"Sorry  to  interrupt,  but  the  postman  reports  that  there 
are  three  large  crates  of  live  stock  down  at  the  station, 
and  the  agent  says  will  you  please  send  for  them  to- 
night, as  he  doesn't  dare  leave  them  out,  there  are  so 
many  strangers  about,  and  they  will  surely  stifle  if  he 
crowds  them  into  the  office  !" 

"Live  stock !"  exclaimed  Bart,  "I'm  sure  I've  bought 
nothing!"  Then,  as  light  broke  in  his  brain, — 
"Maybe  it's  that  setter  pup  that  Truesdale  promised 
me  as  soon  as  it  was  weaned,  which  would  be  about 
now!" 

"Would  a  setter  pup  come  in  three  crates?"  inquired 
The  Man,  solemnly. 

"It must  be  live  plants  and  not  live  stock!"  I  said, 
coming  to  Bart's  rescue,  "for  Aunt  Lavinia  Cortright 


io8  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

wrote  me  last  week  that  she  was  sending  me  some  of  her 
prize  pink  Dahlias,  and  some  gladioli  bulbs ! " 

"Possibly  these  might  fill  three  large  cases !"  laughed 
Bart,  in  his  turn. 

"Why  not  see  if  any  of  those  letters  throw  light  upon 
the  mystery,  and  then  I'll  help  '  hook  up,'  as  I  suppose 
Barney  has  gone  home,  and  we  will  bring  up  the  crates 
even  if  they  contain  crocodiles !"  said  The  Man,  cheer- 
fully. Complications  always  have  an  especially  cheer- 
ing effect  upon  him,  I've  often  noticed. 

The  beams  of  a  quarter  moon  were  picturesque,  but 
not  a  satisfactory  light  by  which  to  read  letters,  espe- 
cially when  under  excitement,  so  Bart  brought  out  a 
carriage  lantern  with  which  we  had  equipped  our  camp, 
and  proceeded  to  sort  the  mail,  tossing  the  rejected  let- 
ters into  my  lap. 

Suddenly  he  paused  at  one,  extra  bulky  and  bearing 
the  handwriting  of  his  mother,  weighed  it  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  and  opened  it  slowly.  From  it  fell  three  of 
the  yellow- brown  papers  upon  which  receipts  for  ex- 
pressage  are  commonly  written;  I  picked  them  up 
while  Bart  read  slowly  — 
"MY  DEAR  SON, 

"  We  were  most  glad  to  hear  through  daughter  Mary 
of  your  eminently  sensible  and  frugal  plan  for  passing 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  109 

your  summer  vacation  in  the  improvement  of  your 
land  without  the  expense  of  travel. 

"Wishing  to  give  you  some  solid  mark  of  ourapproval, 
as  well  as  to  contribute  what  must  be  a  material  aid  to 
your  income,  father  and  I  send  you  to-day,  by  express, 
three  crates  of  Hens  —  one  of  White  Leghorns,  one  of 
Plymouth  Rocks,  and  one  of  Brown  Dorkings,  a  male 
companion  accompanying  each  crate,  as  I  am  told  is 
usual.  We  did  not  select  an  incubator,  thinking  you 
might  have  some  preference  in  the  matter,  but  it  will 
be  forthcoming  when  your  decision  is  made. 

"  Of  course  I  know  that  you  cannot  usually  spare  the 
time  for  the  care  of  these  fowls,  but  it  will  be  a  good  out- 
door vocation  for  Mary,  amusing  and  lucrative,  besides 
being  thoroughly  feminine,  for  such  poultry  raising 
was  considered  even  in  my  younger  days. 

"A  book,  The  Complete  Guide  to  Poultry  Farming, 
which  I  sent  Mary  a  year  ago  on  her  birthday,  as  a  mere 
suggestion,  will  tell  her  all  she  need  know  in  the  begin- 
ning, and  the  responsibility  and  occupation  itself  will 
be  a  good  corrective  for  giving  too  much  time  to  the 
beauties  of  the  flower  garden,  which  are  merely  pleas- 
urable. 

"  I  need  not  remind  you  that  the  different  breeds  should 
be  housed  separately,  but  you  who  always  had  a  gift 


no  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

for  carpentry  can  easily  arrange  this.  Indeed  it  was 
only  yesterday  that  in  opening  a  chest  of  drawers  I  came 
across  a  small  lead  saw  bought  for  sixpence,  with  which 
you  succeeded  in  quite  cutting  through  the  large  Wisteria 
vine  on  Grandma  Bartram's  porch  !  I  wished  to  punish 
you,  but  she  said  —  '  No,  Susanna,  rather  preserve  the 
tool  as  a  memento  of  his  industry  and  patience.' 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  be  near  to  witness  your  natural 
surprise  on  receiving  this  token  of  our  approval,  but  I 
must  trust  Mary  to  write  us  of  it. 
"  Your  mother, 

"  SUSAN  BARTRAM  PENROSE." 

With  something  between  a  groan  and  a  laugh  Bart 
dropped  this  letter  into  my  lap,  with  the  others. 

"So,  after  a  successful  struggle  all  these  five  years 
of  our  country  life  against  the  fatal  magnetism  of  Hens 
that  has  run  epidemic  up  and  down  the  population  of 
commuting  householders,  bringing  financial  prostration 
to  some  and  the  purely  nervous  article  to  others ;  after 
avoiding  '  The  Wars  of  the  Chickens,  or  Who  scratched 
up  those  Early  Peas,'  —  events  as  celebrated  in  local 
history  as  the  Revolution  or  War  of  the  Rebellion,  —  we 
are  to  be  forced  into  the  chicken  business  for  the  good  of 
Bart's  health  and  pocket,  and  my  mental  discipline, 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  in 

and  also  that  a  thrifty  Pennsylvania  air  may  be  thrown 
about  our  altogether  too  delightful  and  altruistic  summer 
arrangements!  It's  t-o-o  bad!"  I  wailed. 

Of  course  I  know,  Mrs.  Evan,  that  I  was  in  a  temper, 
and  that  my  " in-laws"  mean  well,  but  since  comfortable 
setting  hens  have  gone  out  of  fashion,  and  incubators 
and  brooders  taken  their  place,  there  is  no  more  pleas- 
ure or  sentiment  about  raising  poultry  than  in  manu- 
facturing any  other  article  by  rule.  It's  a  business,  and 
a  very  pernickety  one  to  boot,  and  it's  to  keep  Bart 
away  from  business  that  we  are  striving.  Besides,  that 
chicken  book  tells  how  many  square  feet  per  hen  must 
be  allowed  for  the  exercising  yards,  and  how  the  pens 
for  the  little  chicks  must  be  built  on  wheels  and  moved 
daily  to  fresh  pasture.  All  the  vegetable  garden  and 
flower  beds  and  the  bit  of  side  lawn  which  I  want  for 
mother's  rose  garden  would  not  be  too  much !  But  I 
seem  to  be  leaving  the  track  again. 

Bart  didn't  say  a  word,  except  that  "At  any  rate  we 
must  bring  the  fowls  up  from  the  station,"  and  as  the 
stable  door  was  locked  and  the  key  in  Barney's  pocket, 
Bart  and  The  Man  started  to  walk  down  to  the  village 
to  look  him  up  in  some  of  his  haunts,  or  failing  in  this 
to  get  the  express  wagon  from  the  stable. 

Maria  and  I  sat  and  talked  for  some  time  about  The 


ii2  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Man  from  Everywhere,  the  chickens,  and  the  location 
of  the  rose  beds.  She  is  surprisingly  keen  about  flowers, 
considering  that  it  is  quite  ten  years  since  her  own  home 
in  the  country  was  broken  up,  but  then  I  think  this  is 
the  sort  of  knowledge  that  stays  by  one  the  longest  of 
all.  I  hope  that  I  have  succeeded  in  convincing  her 
that  The  Man  is  not  company  to  be  bothered  about, 
but  a  comfortable  family  institution  to  come  and  go  as 
he  likes,  to  be  taken  easily  and  not  too  seriously. 

When  the  moon  disappeared  beyond  the  river 
woods,  we  went  to  the  southwest  porch,  and  there 
decided  that  the  piece  of  lawn  where  we  had  some 
uninteresting  foliage  beds  one  summer  was  the  best 
place  for  the  roses  and  we  might  possibly  have  a  trellis 
across  the  north  wall  for  climbers.  Would  you  plant 
roses  in  rows  or  small  separate  beds  ?  And  how  about 
the  soil?  But  perhaps  the  plan  you  are  sending  me 
will  explain  all  this. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  before  the  men  returned, 
and,  not  having  found  Barney,  Bart  had  signed  for  the 
poultry  in  order  to  leave  the  express  agent  free  to  go 
home,  and  had  left  word  at  the  stable  for  them  to  send 
the  crates  up  as  soon  as  the  long  wagon  returned  from 
Leighton,  whither  it  had  gone  with  trunks. 

After  much  discussion  we  decided  that  the  fowls 


THEIR  FORTUNATE  ESCAPE  113 

should  be  housed  for  the  night  in  the  small  yard  back 
of  the  stable,  where  the  Infant's  cow  (a  present  from 
my  mother)  spends  her  nights  under  the  shed. 

"Did  you  find  any  signs  of  a  chicken  house  on 
the  place  when  you  first  came?"  asked  Maria,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone,  as  if  its  location  was  the  only  thing 
now  to  be  considered. 

"Yes,  there  was  one  directly  in  the  fence  line  at  the 
eastern  gap  where  we  see  the  Three  Brothers  Hills," 
said  Bart,  "and  I've  always  intended  to  plant  a  flower 
bed  of  some  sort  there  both  to  hide  the  gap  in  the  wall 
and  that  something  may  be  benefited  by  the  hen  ma- 
nure of  decades  that  must  have  accumulated  there!" 

"How  would  the  place  do  for  the  new  hen-house?" 
pursued  Maria,  relentlessly. 

"Not  at  all!"  I  snapped  very  decidedly;  "it  is  di- 
rectly in  the  path  the  cool  summer  winds  take  on  their 
way  to  the  dining  room,  and  you  know  at  best  fowl  houses 
are  not  bushes  of  lemon  balm  !" 

"Then  why  not  locate  your  bed  of  good-smelling 
things  in  the  gap,  and  sup  on  nectar  and  distilled 
perfume,"  said  The  Man  from  Everywhere,  sooth- 
ingly. 

"The  very  thing !  and  I  will  write  Mrs.  Evan  at  once 
for  a  list  of  the  plants  in  her  'bed  of  sweet  odours,' 


ii4  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

as  she  calls  it."  Then  presently,  as  the  men  sat  talking, 
Maria  having  gone  into  the  house,  our  summer  work 
seemed  to  lie  accomplished  and  complete  before  me, 
even  as  you  once  saw  your  garden  of  dreams  before  its 
making,  —  the  knoll  restored  to  its  wildness,  ending  not 
too  abruptly  at  the  garden  in  some  loose  rock ;  the  bed 
of  sweet  odours  filling  the  gap  between  it  and  the  gate 
of  the  little  pasture  in  the  rear;  straight  beds  of  hardy 
plants  bordering  the  vegetable  squares;  the  two  seed 
beds  topping  the  furthest  bit,  then  a  space  of  lawn  with 
the  straight  walk  of  the  old  garden  running  through, 
to  the  sundial  amid  some  beds  of  summer  flowers  at 
the  orchard  end,  while  the  open  lawn  below  the  side 
porch  is  given  up  to  roses ! 

I  even  crossed  the  fence  in  imagination,  and  took  in 
the  possibilities  of  Opal  Farm.  If  only  I  could  have 
some  one  there  to  talk  flowers  and  other  perplexities 
to,  as  you  have  Lavinia  Cortright,  without  going  through 
the  front  gate ! 

Two  hours  must  have  passed  in  pleasant  chat,  for 
the  hall  clock,  the  only  one  in  the  front  part  of  the  house 
we  had  not  stopped,  was  chiming  eleven  when  wheels 
paused  before  the  house  and  the  latch  of  the  gate  that 
swung  both  ways  gave  its  double  click  ! 

"The  hens  have  come  !"  I  cried  in  dismay,  the  dream 


THEIR   FORTUNATE  ESCAPE          115 

garden  vanishing  before  an  equally  imaginary  chorus 
of  clucks  and  crows. 

Mr.  Hale  himself,  the  stable  keeper,  appeared  at  the 
house  corner  at  the  same  moment  that  Bart  and  The 
Man  reached  it.  Consternation  sat  upon  his  features, 
and  his  voice  was  fairly  husky  as  he  jerked  out,  — 
"They've  gone,  —  clean  gone,  —  Mr.  Penrose,  all  three 
crates !  and  the  dust  is  so  kicked  up  about  that  depot 
that  you  can't  read  out  no  tracks.  Some  loafers  must 
hev  seen  them  come  and  laid  to  get  in  ahead  o'  you,  as 
hevin'  signed  the  company  ain't  liable  !  What !  don't 
you  want  to  drive  down  to  the  sheriff's?"  and  Mr. 
Hale's  lips  hung  loose  with  dismay  at  Bart's  apparent 
apathy. 

"Mr.  Hale,"  said  Bart,  in  mock  heroic  tones,  "I 
thank  you  for  your  sympathy,  but  because  some  troubles 
fall  upon  us  unawares,  it  does  not  follow  that  we  should 
set  bait  for  others  1" 

Whereupon  Mr.  Hale  the  next  day  remarked  that  he 
didn't  know  whether  or  not  Penrose  was  taking  action 
in  the  matter,  because  you  could  never  judge  a  good 
lawyer's  meanings  by  his  speech. 

However,  if  the  hens  escaped,  so  did  we,  and  the  next 
morning  Bart  forgot  his  paper  until  afternoon,  so  eager 
was  he  to  test  the  depth  of  soil  in  the  knoll. 


u6  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

I'm  sending  you  a  list  of  the  wild  things  at  hand. 
Will  you  tell  me  in  due  course  which  of  the  ferns  are 
best  for  our  purpose  ?  I've  noticed  some  of  the  larger 
ones  turn  quite  shabby  early  in  August. 


VII 
A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 

Oaklands,  June  5.  Yesterday  my  roses  began  to 
bloom.  The  very  old  bush  of  thorny,  half-double  brier 
roses  with  petals  of  soft  yellow  crepe,  in  which  the  sun- 
beams caught  and  glinted,  took  the  lead  as  usual. 
Before  night  enough  Jacqueminot  buds  showed  rich 
colour  to  justify  my  filling  the  bowl  on  the  greeting 
table,  fringing  it  with  sprays  of  the  yellow  brier  buds 
and  wands  of  copper  beech  now  in  its  velvety  perfection 
of  youth.  This  morning,  the  moment  that  I  crossed 
my  bedroom  threshold,  the  Jacqueminot  odour  wafted 
up.  Is  there  anything  more  like  the  incense  of  praise 
to  the  flower  lover  ?  Not  less  individual  than  the  voice 
of  friends,  or  the  song  of  familiar  birds,  is  the  perfume 
of  flowers  to  those  who  live  with  them,  and  among 
roses  none  impress  this  characteristic  more  poignantly 
than  the  crimson  Jacqueminot  and  the  silver-pink  La 
France,  equally  delicious  and  absolutely  different. 

As  one  who  has  learned  by  long  and   sometimes 

disastrous  experience,  to  one  who  is  now  really  plunging 
117 


n8  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

headlong  into  the  sea  of  garden  mysteries  and  under- 
currents for  the  first  time,  I  give  you  warning !  if  you 
have  a  real  rose  garden,  or,  merely  what  Lavinia 
Cortright  calls  hers,  a  rosary  of  assorted  beads,  try  as 
far  as  possible  to  have  all  your  seed  sowing  and  trans- 
planting done  before  the  June  rose  season  begins,  that 
you  may  give  yourself  up  to  this  one  flower,  heart,  soul, 
yes,  and  body  also !  It  was  no  haphazard  symbolist 
that,  in  troubadour  days,  gave  Love  the  rose  for  his 
own  flower,  for  to  be  its  real  self  the  rose  demands  all 
and  must  be  all  in  all  to  its  possessor. 

As  for  you,  Mary  Penrose,  who  eschewed  hen- 
keeping  as  a  deceitful  masquerade  of  labour,  under  the 
name  of  rural  employment,  ponder  deeply  before  you 
have  spade  put  to  turf  in  your  south  lawn,  and  invest 
your  birthday  dollars  in  the  list  of  roses  that  at  this  very 
moment  I  am  preparing  to  send  you,  with  all  possible 
allurement  of  description  to  egg  you  on.  For  unless  you 
have  very  poor  luck,  which  the  slope  of  your  land, 
depth  of  soil,  and  your  own  pertinacity  and  staying 
qualities  discount,  many  more  dollars  in  quarters, 
halves,  or  entire  will  follow  the  first  large  outlay,  and 
I  may  even  hear  of  your  substituting  the  perpetual 
breakfast  prune  of  boarding-houses  for  your  grapefruit 
in  winter,  or  being  overcome  in  summer  by  the  prevail- 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  119 

ing  health-food  epidemic,  in  order  that  you  may  plunder 
the  housekeeping  purse  successfully. 

But  this  is  the  time  and  hour  that  one  gardener,  on  a 
very  modest  scale,  may  be  excused  if  she  overrates  the 
charms  of  rose  possessing,  for  it  is  a  June  morning,  both 
bright  and  overcast  by  turns.  A  wood  thrush  is  prac- 
tising his  arpegios  in  the  little  cedar  copse  on  one  side, 
and  a  catbird  is  hurling  every  sort  of  vocal  challenge 
and  bedevilment  from  his  ancestral  syringa  bush  on 
the  other,  and  all  between  is  a  gap  filled  with  a  vista 
of  rose-bushes  —  not  marshalled  in  a  garden  together, 
but  scattered  here,  there,  and  everywhere  that  a  good 
exposure  and  deep  foothold  could  be  found. 

As  far  as  the  arrangement  of  my  roses  is  concerned, 
"do  as  I  say,  not  as  I  do"  is  a  most  convenient  motto. 
I  have  tried  to  formalize  my  roses  these  ten  years  past, 
but  how  can  I,  for  my  yellow  brier  (Harrison's)  has 
followed  its  own  sweet  will  so  long  that  it  makes  almost 
a  hedge.  The  Madame  Plantiers  of  mother's  garden 
are  stalwart  shrubs,  like  many  other  nameless  bushes 
collected  from  old  gardens  hereabout,  one  declining 
so  persistently  to  be  uprooted  from  a  particularly  cheer- 
ful comer  that  it  finds  itself  in  the  modern  company  of 
Japanese  iris,  and  inadvertently  sheds  its  petals  to 
make  rose-water  of  the  birds'  bath. 


120  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

An  English  sweetbrier  of  delicious  leafage  hobnobs 
with  honeysuckle  and  clematis  on  one  of  the  wren  ar- 
bours, while  a  great  nameless  bush  of  exquisite  blush 
buds,  quite  destitute  of  thorns  (one  of  the  many  cuttings 
sent  "the  Doctor's  wife"  in  the  long  ago),  stands  an 
unconscious  chaperone  between  Marshall  P.  Wilder 
and  Mrs.  John  Lang. 

I  must  at  once  confess  that  it  is  much  better  to  keep 
the  roses  apart  in  long  borders  of  a  kind  than  to  scatter 
them  at  random.  By  so  doing  the  plants  can  be  easily 
reached  from  either  side,  more  care  being  taken  not  to 
overshadow  the  dwarf  varieties  by  the  more  vigorous. 

Lavinia  Cortright  has  left  the  old-fashioned  June  roses 
that  belonged  to  her  garden  where  they  were,  but  is  now 
gathering  the  new  hybrids  after  the  manner  of  Evan's 
little  plan.  In  this  way,  without  venturing  into  roses 
from  a  collector's  standpoint,  she  can  have  representa- 
tives of  the  best  groups  and  a  continuous  supply  of  buds 
of  some  sort  both  outdoors  and  for  the  house  from  the 
first  week  in  June  until  winter. 

To  begin  with,  roses  need  plenty  of  air.  This  does 
not  mean  that  they  flourish  in  a  draught  made  by  the 
rushing  of  north  or  east  wind  between  buildings  or 
down  a  cut  or  roadway.  If  roses  are  set  in  a  mixed  bor- 
der, the  tendency  is  inevitably  to  crowd  or  flank  them 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  121 

by  some  succulent  annual  that  overgrows  the  limit  we 
mentally  set  for  it,  thereby  stopping  the  circulation 
of  air  about  the  rose  roots,  and  lo !  the  harm  is  done ! 

If  you  want  good  roses,  you  must  be  content  to  see  a 
little  bare,  brown  earth  between  the  bushes,  only  allow- 
ing a  narrow  outside  border  of  pansies,  the  horned 
bedding  violets  (cornuta),  or  some  equally  compact  and 
clean- growing  flower.  To  plant  anything  thickly  be- 
tween the  roses  themselves  prevents  stirring  the  soil  and 
the  necessary  seasonal  mulchings,  for  if  the  ground- 
covering  plants  flourish  you  will  dislike  to  disturb 
them. 

The  first  thing  to  secure  for  your  rosary  is  sun  — 
sun  for  all  the  morning.  If  the  shadow  of  house,  barn, 
or  of  distant  trees  breaks  the  direct  afternoon  rays  in 
July  and  August,  so  much  the  better,  but  no  overhead 
shade  at  any  time  or  season.  This  does  not  prevent 
your  protecting  a  particularly  fine  quantity  of  buds, 
needed  for  some  special  occasion,  with  a  tentlike  um- 
brella, such  as  one  sees  fastened  to  the  seat  in  pedlers' 
wagons.  A  pair  of  these  same  umbrellas  are  almost  a 
horticultural  necessity  for  the  gardener's  comfort  as 
well,  when  she  sits  on  her  rubber  mat  to  transplant  and 
weed. 

Given  your  location,  consideration  of  soil  comes  next, 


122  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

for  this  can  be  controlled  in  a  way  in  which  the  sun  may 
not  be,  though  if  the  ground  chosen  is  in  the  bottom  of  a 
hollow  or  in  a  place  where  surface  water  is  likely  to 
settle  in  winter,  you  had  better  shift  the  location  with- 
out more  ado.  It  was  a  remark  pertinent  to  all  such 
places  that  Dean  Hole  made  to  the  titled  lady  who 
showed  him  an  elaborately  planned  rose  garden,  in 
a  hollow,  and  waited  for  his  praise.  She  heard  only  the 
remark  that  it  was  an  admirable  spot  for  ferns ! 

If  your  soil  is  clayey,  and  holds  water  for  this  reason, 
it  can  be  drained  by  porous  tiles,  sunk  at  intervals  in 
the  same  way  as  meadow  or  hay  land  would  be  drained, 
that  is  if  the  size  of  your  garden  and  the  lay  of  the  land 
warrants  it.  If,  however,  the  roses  are  to  be  in  separate 
beds  or  long  borders,  the  earth  can  be  dug  out  to  the 
depth  of  two  and  a  half  or  three  feet,  the  good  fertile 
portion  being  put  on  one  side  and  the  clay  or  yellow 
loam,  if  any  there  be,  removed.  Then  fill  the  hole 
with  cobblestones,  rubbish  of  old  plaster,  etc.,  for  a  foot 
in  depth  (never  tin  cans) ;  mix  the  good  earth  thoroughly 
with  one- third  its  bulk  of  well- rotted  cow  dung,  a  gener- 
ous sprinkling  of  unslaked  lime  and  sulphur,  and  replace, 
leaving  it  to  settle  for  a  few  days  and  watering  it  thor- 
oughly, if  it  does  not  rain,  before  planting. 

One  of  the  advantages  of  planting  roses  by  themselves 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  123 

is  that  the  stirring  of  the  soil  and  giving  of  special  fer- 
tilizers when  needful  may  be  unhampered. 

In  the  ordinary  planting  of  roses  by  the  novice,  the 
most  necessary  rules  are  usually  the  first  violated. 
The  roses  are  generally  purchased  in  pots,  with  a  certain 
amount  of  foliage  and  a  few  buds  produced  by  forcing. 
A  hole  is  excavated,  we  will  suppose,  in  a  hardened  bor- 
der of  hardy  plants  that,  owing  to  the  tangle  of  roots,  can 
be  at  best  but  superficially  dug  and  must  rely  upon  top 
dressing  for  its  nutriment.  Owing  to  the  difficulty  of 
digging  the  hole,  it  is  likely  to  be  a  tight  fit  for  the  pot- 
bound  ball  of  calloused  roots  that  is  to  fill  it.  Hence, 
instead  of  the  woody  roots  and  delicate  fibres  being  care- 
fully spread  out  and  covered,  so  that  each  one  is  sur- 
rounded by  fresh  earth,  they  are  jammed  just  as  they 
are  (or  often  with  an  additional  squeeze)  into  a  rigid 
socket,  and  small  wonder  if  the  conjunction  of  the  two 
results  in  blighting  and  a  lingering  death  rather  than 
the  renewal  of  vitality  and  increase. 

Evan,  who  has  had  a  wide  experience  in  watching  the 
development  of  his  plans,  both  by  professional  gardeners 
and  amateurs,  says  that  he  is  convinced  more  and  more 
each  day  that,  where  transplanting  of  any  sort  fails,  it 
is  due  to  carelessness  in  the  securing  of  the  root  anchors, 
rather  than  any  fault  of  the  dealer  who  supplies  the 


124  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

plants,  this  of  course  applying  particularly  to  all 
growths  having  woody  roots,  where  breakage  and 
wastage  cannot  be  rapidly  restored.  When  a  rose  is 
once  established,  its  persistent  roots  may  find  means 
of  boring  through  soil  that  in  its  first  nonresistant  state 
is  impossible.  While  stiff,  impervious  clay  is  undesir- 
able, a  soil  too  loose  with  sand,  that  allows  the  bush  to 
shift  with  the  wind,  instead  of  holding  it  firmly,  is 
quite  as  undesirable. 

In  planting  all  hardy  or  half-hardy  roses,  —  whether 
they  are  of  the  type  that  flower  once  in  early  summer, 
the  hybrid  perpetuals  that  bloom  freely  in  June  and 
again  at  intervals  during  late  summer  and  autumn, 
or  the  hybrid  teas  that,  if  wisely  selected  and  protected, 
combine  the  wintering  ability  of  their  hardy  parents 
with  the  monthly  blooming  cross  of  the  teas,  —  it  is  best 
to  plant  dormant  field-grown  plants  in  October,  or  else 
as  early  in  April  as  the  ground  is  sufficiently  dry  and 
frost  free. 

These  field-grown  roses  have  better  roots,  and  though, 
when  planted  in  the  spring,  for  the  first  few  months  the 
growth  is  apparently  slower  than  that  of  the  pot- grown 
bushes,  it  is  much  more  normal  and  satisfactory,  at  least 
in  the  Middle  and  New  England  states  of  which  I  have 
knowledge. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  125 

All  roses,  even  the  sturdy,  old-fashioned  damasks, 
Madame  Plantier,  and  the  like,  should  have  some  cov- 
ering in  winter,  such  as  stable  litter  of  coarse  manure 
with  the  straw  left  in.  Hybrid  perpetuals  I  hill  up 
well  with  earth  after  the  manner  of  celery  banked  for 
bleaching,  the  trenches  between  making  good  water 
courses  for  snow  water,  while  in  spring  cow  manure 
and  nitrate  of  soda  is  scattered  in  these  ruts  before 
the  soil  is  restored  to  its  level  by  forking. 

The  hybrid  teas,  of  which  La  France  is  the  best  ex- 
ponent, should  be  hilled  up  and  then  filled  in  between 
with  evergreen  branches,  upland  sedge  grass,  straw  or 
corn  stalks,  and  if  you  have  the  wherewithal,  they 
may  be  capped  with  straw. 

I  do  not  care  for  leaves  as  a  covering,  unless  some- 
thing coarse  underlies  them,  for  in  wet  seasons  they  form 
a  cold  and  discouraging  poultice  to  everything  but  the 
bob-tailed  meadow  mice,  who  love  to  bed  and  burrow 
under  them.  Such  tea  roses  as  it  is  possible  to  winter 
in  the  north  should  be  treated  in  the  same  way,  but  there 
is  something  else  to  be  suggested  about  their  culture  in 
another  place. 

The  climbing  roses  of  arbours,  if  in  very  exposed  situ- 
ations, in  addition  to  the  mulch  of  straw  and  manure, 
may  have  corn  stalks  stacked  against  the  slats,  which 


126 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


r 

5 

t^ka   ft? 

..I- 

'  1 

/-Ground 

*   . 

ESt 

22 
Corners  a 

^> 

LAR 

T 

{Rose  Bed. 

makes  a  windbreak  well 
worth  the  trouble.  But  the 
more  tender  species  of  climb- 
ing roses  should  be  grown 
upon  pillars,  English  fashion. 
These  can  be  snugly  strawed 
up  after  the  fashion  of  wine 
bottles,  and  then  a  conical 
cap  of  the  waterproof  tar 
paper  used  by  builders  drawn 
over  the  whole,  the  manure 
being  banked  up  to  hold  the 
base  firmly  in  place.  With 
this  device  it  is  possible  to 
grow  the  lovely  Gloire  de  Di- 
jon, in  the  open,  that  fes- 
toons the  eaves  of  English 
cottages,  but  is  our  despair. 
Not  long  ago  we  invented 
an  inexpensive  "pillar"  trel- 
lis for  roses  and  vines  which, 
standing  seven  feet  high  and 
built  about  a  cedar  clothes- 
pole,  the  end  well  coated  with 
tar  before  setting,  is  both 
symmetrical  and  durable,  not 


-ft 


11 


Hybrid  Tea.. 


> 

i 


Grass. 


Tea  or  Summer. 


ss-o' 


Hybrid  Tea. 


Grass. 


\ 


Tea  or  Summer. 


\ 


in 

it 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  127 

burning  tender  shoots,  as  do  the  metal  affairs,  and 
costing,  if  the  material  is  bought  and  a  carpenter  hired 
by  the  day,  the  moderate  price  of  two  dollars  and  a 
half  each,  including  paint,  which  should  be  dark  green. 

Evan  has  made  a  sketch  of  it  for  you.  He  finds  it 
useful  in  many  ways,  and  in  laying  out  a  new  garden 
these  pillars,  set  at  corners  or  at  intervals  along  the 
walks,  serve  to  break  the  hot  look  of  a  wide  expanse 
and  give  a  certain  formality  that  draws  together  with- 
out being  too  stiff  and  artificial. 

For  little  gardens,  like  yours  and  mine,  I  think  deep- 
green  paint  the  best  colour  for  pergola,  pillars,  seats, 
plant  tubs,  and  the  like.  White  paint  is  clean  and 
cheerful,  but  stains  easily.  If  one  has  the  surround- 
ings and  money  for  marble  columns  and  garden  fur- 
niture, it  must  form  part  of  a  well-planned  whole  and 
not  be  pitched  in  at  random,  but  the  imitation  article, 
compounded  of  cement  or  whitewashed  wood,  belongs 
in  the  region  of  stage  properties  or  beer  gardens ! 

The  little  plan  I'm  sending  you  needs  a  bit  of  ground 
not  less  than  fifty  feet  by  seventy-five  for  its  develop- 
ment, and  that,  I  think,  is  well  within  the  limits  of  your 
southwest  lawn.  The  pergola  can  be  made  of  rough 
cedar  posts  with  the  bark  left  on.  Evan  says  that  there 
are  any  quantity  of  cedar  trees  in  your  river  woods  that 


128  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

are  to  be  cleared  for  the  reservoir,  and  you  can  prob- 
ably get  them  for  a  song. 

The  border  enclosing  the  grass  plots  is  four  feet  in 
width,  which  allows  you  to  reach  into  the  centre  from 
either  side.  Two  rows  of  hybrid  perpetuals  or  three  of 
hybrid  tea  or  summer  roses  can  be  planted  in  these 
beds,  according  to  their  size,  thus  allowing,  at  the  mini- 
mum, for  one  hundred  hybrid  perpetuals,  fifty  hybrid 
teas,  fifty  summer  roses,  and  eighteen  climbers,  nine 
on  either  side  of  the  pergola,  with  four  additional  for 
the  corner  pillars. 

The  irregular  beds  in  the  small  lawns  should  not  be 
planted  in  set  rows,  but  after  the  manner  of  shrub- 
beries. Rugosa  roses,  if  their  colours  be  well  chosen, 
are  best  for  the  centre  of  these  beds.  They  are  striking 
when  in  flower  and  decorative  in  fruit,  while  the  hand- 
some leaves,  that  are  very  free  from  insects,  I  find  most 
useful  as  green  in  arranging  other  roses  the  foliage 
of  which  is  scanty.  The  pink-and-white  damask 
roses  belong  here,  and  the  dear,  profuse,  and  graceful 
Madame  Plan  tier,  —  a  dozen  bushes  of  this  hybrid  China 
rose  of  seven  leaflets  are  not  too  many.  For  seventy 
years  it  has  held  undisputed  sway  among  hardy  white 
roses  and  has  become  so  much  a  part  of  old  gardens 
that  we  are  inclined  to  place  its  origin  too  far  back  in 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  129 

the  past  among  historic  roses,  because  we  cannot 
imagine  a  time  when  it  was  not.  This  is  a  rose  to 
pick  by  the  armful,  and  grown  in  masses  it  lends  an 
air  of  luxury  to  the  simplest  garden. 

Personally,  I  object  to  the  rambler  tribe  of  roses  for 
any  but  large  gardens,  where  in  a  certain  sense  the 
personality  of  flowers  must  sometimes  be  lost  in  decora- 
tive effect.  A  scentless  rose  has  no  right  to  intrude  on 
the  tender  intimacies  of  the  woman's  garden,  but 
pruned  back  to  a  tall  standard  it  may  be  cautiously 
mingled  with  Madame  Plantier  with  good  effect,  lend- 
ing the  pale  lady  the  reflected  touch  of  the  colour  that 
gives  life. 

For  the  pergola  a  few  ramblers  may  be  used  for 
rapid  effect,  while  the  slower  growing  varieties  are 
making  wood,  but  sooner  or  later  I'm  sure  that  they  will 
disappear  before  more  friendly  roses,  and  even  to-day 
the  old-fashioned  Gem  of  the  Prairies,  Felicite  Per- 
petual, and  Baltimore  Belle  seem  to  me  worthier.  Col- 
our and  profusion  the  rambler  has,  but  equally  so  has 
the  torrent  of  coloured  paper  flowers  that  pours  out  of 
the  juggler's  hat,  and  they  are  much  bigger. 

No,  I'm  apt  to  be  emphatic  (Evan  calls  it  pertina- 
cious), but  I'm  sure  the  time  will  come  when  at  least 
the  crimson  rambler,  trained  over  a  gas-pipe  arch, 


i3o  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

except  for  purely  decorative  purposes,  will  be  as  much 
disliked  by  the  real  rose  lover  as  the  tripod  with  the 
iron  pot  painted  red  and  filled  with  red  geraniums ! 

The  English  sweetbrier  is  a  climbing  or  pillar  rose, 
capable  of  being  pruned  into  a  bush  or  hedge  that  not 
only  gives  fragrance  in  June  but  every  time  the  rain 
falls  or  dew  condenses  upon  its  magic  leaves.  This  you 
must  have  as  well  as  some  of  its  kin,  the  Penzance 
hybrid- sweetbriers,  either  against  the  pergola  or 
trained  to  the  corner  pillars,  where  you  will  become 
more  intimate  with  them. 

You  may  be  fairly  sure  of  success  in  wintering  well- 
chosen  hybrid  perpetual  roses  and  the  hybrid  teas. 
If,  for  any  reason,  certain  varieties  that  succeed  in 
Lavinia  Cortright's  garden  and  ours  do  not  thrive  with 
you,  they  must  be  replaced  by  a  gradual  process  of 
elimination.  You  alone  may  judge  of  this.  I'm 
simply  giving  you  a  list  of  varieties  that  have  thriven 
in  my  garden;  others  may  not  find  them  the  best. 
Only  let  me  advise  you  to  begin  with  roses  that  have 
stood  a  test  of  not  less  than  half  a  dozen  years,  for  it 
really  takes  that  long  to  know  the  influence  of  heredity 
in  this  highly  specialized  race.  After  the  rose  garden 
has  shown  you  all  its  colours,  it  is  easy  to  supplement  a 
needed  tint  here  or  a  proven  newcomer  there  without 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  131 

speculating,  as  it  were,  in  garden  stock  in  a  bull  mar- 
ket. Too  much  of  spending  money  for  something  that 
two  years  hence  will  be  known  no  more  is  a  financial 
side  of  the  Garden-Goozle  question  that  saddens  the 
commuter,  as  well  as  his  wife.  It  is  a  continual  proof 
of  man's,  and  particularly  woman's,  innocency  that 
such  pictures  as  horticultural  pedlers  show  when  ex- 
tolling their  wares  do  not  deter  instead  of  encouraging 
purchasers.  If  the  fruits  and  flowers  were  believable, 
as  depicted,  still  they  should  be  unattractive  to  eye 
and  palate. 

The  hybrid  perpetuals  give  their  great  yield  in  June, 
followed  by  a  more  or  less  scattering  autumn  blooming. 
It  is  foolish  to  expect  a  rose  specialized  and  proven  by 
the  tests  climatic  and  otherwise  of  Holland,  England, 
or  France,  and  pronounced  a  perpetual  bloomer,  to  live 
up  to  its  reputation  in  this  country  of  sudden  extremes: 
unveiled  summer  heat,  that  forces  the  bud  open  be- 
fore it  has  developed  quality,  causing  certain  shades 
of  pink  and  crimson  to  fade  and  flatten  before  the  flower 
is  really  fit  for  gathering.  Americans  in  general 
must  be  content  with  the  half  loaf,  as  far  as  garden  roses 
are  concerned,  for  in  the  cooler  parts  of  the  country, 
where  the  development  of  the  flower  is  slower  and  more 
satisfactory,  the  winter  lends  added  dangers. 


132  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Good  roses  —  not,  however,  the  perfect  flowers  of  the 
connoisseur  or  even  of  the  cottage  exhibitions  of  Eng- 
land —  may  be  had  from  early  June  until  the  first  week 
of  July,  but  the  hybrid  tea  roses  that  brave  the  latter 
part  of  that  month  and  August  are  but  short  lived, 
even  when  gathered  in  the  bud.  Those  known  as  sum- 
mer bedders  of  the  Bourbon  class,  chiefly  scentless,  of 
which  Appoline  is  a  well-known  example,  are  simply 
bits  of  decorative  colour  without  the  endearing  attri- 
butes of  roses,  and  garden  colour  may  be  obtained 
with  far  less  labour. 

In  July  and  August  you  may  safely  let  your  eyes 
wander  from  the  rosary  to  the  beds  of  summer  annuals, 
the  gladioli,  Japan  lilies,  and  Dahlias,  and  depend  for 
fragrance  on  your  bed  of  sweet  odours.  But  as  the 
nights  begin  to  lengthen,  at  the  end  of  August,  you  may 
prepare  for  a  tea-rose  festival,  if  you  have  a  little  fore- 
thought and  a  very  little  money. 

You  have,  I  think,  a  florist  in  your  neighbourhood 
who  raises  roses  for  the  market.  This  is  my  method, 
practised  for  many  years  with  comforting  success. 
Instead  of  buying  pot- grown  tea  roses  in  April  or  May, 
that,  unless  a  good  price  (from  twenty-five  cents  up)  is 
paid  for  them,  will  be  so  small  that  they  can  only  be 
called  bushes  at  the  season's  end,  I  go  to  our  florist 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  133 

and  buy  fifty  of  the  bushes  that  he  has  forced  dur- 
ing the  winter  and  being  considered  spent  are  cast 
out  about  June  first,  in  order  to  fill  in  the  new  stock. 

All  such  roses  are  not  discarded  each  season,  but  the 
process  is  carried  on  in  alternate  benches  and  years,  so 
that  there  are  always  some  to  be  obtained.  These 
plants,  big,  tired- looking,  and  weak  in  the  branches,  I 
buy  for  the  nominal  sum  of  ten  dollars  per  hundred, 
five  dollars'  worth  filling  a  long  border  when  set  out  in 
alternating  rows.  On  taking  these  home,  I  thin  out 
the  woodiest  shoots,  or  those  that  interfere,  and  plant 
deep  in  the  border,  into  which  nitrate  of  soda  has 
been  dug  in  the  proportion  of  about  two  ounces  to  a 
plant. 

After  spreading  out  the  roots  as  carefully  as  possible, 
I  plant  firmly  and  water  thoroughly,  but  do  not  as  yet 
prune  off  the  long  branches.  In  ten  days,  having  given 
meanwhile  two  waterings  of  liquid  manure,  I  prune  the 
bushes  back  sharply.  By  this  time  they  will  have 
probably  dropped  the  greater  part  of  their  leaves,  and 
having  had  a  short  but  sufficient  nap,  are  ready  to  grow, 
which  they  proceed  to  do  freely.  I  do  not  encourage 
bloom  in  July,  but  as  soon  as  we  have  dew-heavy 
August  nights  it  begins  and  goes  on,  increasing  in 
quality  until  hard  frost.  Many  of  these  bushes  have 


134  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

wintered  comfortably  and  on  being  pruned  to  within 
three  inches  of  the  ground  have  lasted  many  years. 

As  to  the  varieties  so  treated,  that  is  a  secondary 
consideration,  for  under  these  circumstances  you  must 
take  what  the  florist  has  to  offer,  which  will  of  course 
be  those  most  suitable  to  the  winter  market.  I  have 
used  Perle  des  Jardins,  Catherine  Mermet,  Bride  and 
Bridesmaid,  Safrano,  Souvenir  d'un  Ami,  and  Bon 
Silene  (the  rose  for  button-hole  buds)  with  equal  success, 
though  a  very  intelligent  grower  affirms  that  both  Bride 
and  Bridesmaid  are  unsatisfactory  as  outdoor  roses. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  individual  flowers  from  these 
bushes  bear  relation  to  the  perfect  specimens  of  green- 
house growth  in  anything  but  fragrance,  but  in  this 
way  I  have  roses  all  the  autumn,  "by  the  fistful,"  as 
Timothy  Saunders's  Scotch  appreciation  of  values  puts 
it,  though  his  spouse,  Martha  Corkle,  whose  home 
memories  are  usually  expanded  by  the  perspective  of 
time  and  absence,  in  this  case  speaks  truly  when  she 
says  on  receiving  a  handful,  "Yes,  Mrs.  Evan,  they're 
nice  and  sweetish  and  I  thank  you  kindly,  but,  ma'am, 
they  couldn't  stand  in  it  with  those  that  grows  as  free 
as  corn  poppies  round  the  four-shillin'-a-week  cottages 
out  Gloucester  way,  and  no  disrespec'  intended." 

The  working  season  of  the  rose  garden  begins  the 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  135 

first  of  April  with  the  cutting  out  of  dead  wood  and  the 
shortening  and  shaping  of  last  year's  growth.  With 
hardy  roses  the  flowers  come  from  fresh  twigs  on  old 
growth.  I  never  prune  in  the  autumn,  because  winter 
always  kills  a  bit  of  the  top  and  cutting  opens  the  tubu- 
lar stem  to  the  weather  and  induces  decay.  Pruning 
is  a  science  in  itself,  to  be  learned  by  experience. 
This  is  the  formula  that  I  once  wrote  on  a  slate  and  kept 
in  my  attic  desk  with  my  first  Boke  of  the  Garden. 

April  i.  Uncover  bushes,  prune,  and  have  the  winter 
mulch  thoroughly  dug  in.  Place  stakes  in  the  centre 
of  bushes  that  you  know  from  experience  will  need  them. 
Re- tie  climbers  that  have  broken  away  from  supports, 
but  not  too  tightly;  let  some  sprays  swing  and  arch  in 
their  own  way. 

May.  As  soon  as  the  foliage  begins  to  appear,  spray 
with  whale-oil  soap  lotion  mixed  hot  and  let  cool: 
strength  —  a  bit  the  size  of  a  walnut  to  a  gallon  of  water. 
Do  this  every  two  weeks  until  the  rosebuds  show  de- 
cided colour,  then  stop.  This  is  to  keep  the  rose  Aphis 
at  bay,  the  little  soft  green  fly  that  is  as  succulent  as  the 
sap  upon  which  it  feeds. 

If  the  spring  is  damp  and  mildew  appears,  dust  with 
sulphur  flower  in  a  small  bellows. 

June.     The  Rose  Hopper  or  Thrip,  an  active  little 


136  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

pale  yellow,  transparent- winged  insect  that  clings  to  the 
under  side  of  the  leaf,  will  now  come  if  the  weather  is 
dry ;  dislodged  easily  by  shaking,  it  immediately  returns. 
Remedy,  spraying  leaves  from  underneath  with  water 
and  applying  powdered  helebore  with  a  bellows. 

If  Black  Spot,  a  rather  recent  nuisance,  appears  on  the 
leaves,  spray  with  Bordeaux  Mixture,  bought  of  a  horti- 
cultural dealer,  directions  accompanying. 

Meanwhile  the  leaf  worm  is  sure  to  put  in  appearance. 
This  is  also  transparent  and  either  brownish  green,  or 
yellow,  seemingly  according  to  the  leaves  upon  which  it 
feeds.  Remedy,  if  they  won't  yield  to  helebore  (and 
they  seldom  do  unless  very  sickly),  brush  them  off  into 
a  cup.  An  old  shaving  brush  is  good  for  this  purpose, 
as  it  is  close  set  but  too  soft  to  scrape  the  leaf. 

June  15.  When  the  roses  are  in  bloom,  stop  all 
insecticides.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  cure  being 
worse  than  the  disease,  and  a  rose  garden  redolent  of 
whale-oil  soap  and  phosphates  and  encrusted  with 
helebore  and  Bordeaux  Mixture  has  a  painful  sugges- 
tion of  a  horticultural  hospital. 

Now  is  the  time  for  the  Rose  Chafer,  a  dull  brownish 
beetle  about  half  an  inch  long,  who  times  his  coming  up 
out  of  the  ground  to  feast  upon  the  most  fragrant  and 
luscious  roses.  These  hunt  in  couples  and  are  wholly 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  137 

obnoxious.  Picking  into  a  fruit  jar  with  a  little  kerosene 
in  the  bottom  is  the  only  way  to  kill  them.  In  one 
day  last  season  Evan  came  to  my  rescue  and  filled  a 
quart  jar  in  two  hours;  they  are  so  fat  and  spunky 
they  may  be  considered  as  the  big  game  among  garden 
bugs,  and  their  catching,  if  not  carried  to  an  extreme, 
in  the  light  of  sport. 

July.  See  that  all  dead  flowers  are  cut  off  and  no  pet- 
als allowed  to  mould  on  the  ground.  Mulch  with  short 
grass  during  hot,  dry  weather,  and  use  liquid  manure 
upon  hybrid  teas  and  teas  every  two  weeks,  imme- 
diately after  watering  or  a  rain.  Never,  at  any  season, 
allow  a  rose  to  wither  on  the  bush ! 

August.  The  same,  keeping  on  the  watch  for  all 
previous  insects  but  the  rose  beetle;  this  will  have  left. 
Mulch  hybrid  perpetuals  if  a  dry  season,  and  give 
liquid  manure  for  the  second  blooming. 

September.  Stir  the  ground  after  heavy  rains,  and 
watch  for  tendencies  of  mould. 

October.    The  same. 

November.  Begin  to  draw  the  soil  about  roots  soon 
after  black  frost,  and  bank  up  before  the  ground 
freezes,  but  do  not  add  straw,  litter,  or  manure  in  the 
trenches  until  the  ground  is  actually  frozen,  which  will 
be  from  December  first  onward,  except  in  the  case 


138  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  teas,  which  should  be  covered  gradually  until  the 
top  is  reached. 

By  this  you  will  judge,  Mary  Penrose,  that  a  rosary 
has  its  labours,  as  well  as  pleasures,  and  that  like  all 
other  joys  it  is  accompanied  by  difficulties.  Yet  you 
can  grow  good  roses  if  you  will,  but  the  difficulty  is 
that  most  people  won't.  I  think,  by  the  way,  that  remark 
belongs  to  Dean  Hole  of  fragrant  rose-garden  memory, 
and  of  a  truth  he  has  said  all  that  is  likely  to  be 
spoken  or  written  about  the  rose  on  the  side  of  both 
knowledge  and  human  fancy  for  many  a  day. 

Modern  roses  of  the  hybrid- perpetual  and  hybrid- 
tea  types  may  be  bought  of  several  reliable  dealers  for 
twenty-five  dollars  per  hundred,  in  two  conditions, 
either  grown  on  their  own  roots  or  budded  on  Manette 
or  brier  stock.  Personally  I  prefer  the  first  or  natural 
condition,  if  the  constitution  of  the  plant  is  sufficiently 
vigorous  to  warrant  it.  There  are,  however,  many  in- 
dispensable varieties  that  do  better  for  the  infusion  of 
vigorous  brier  blood.  A  budded  rose  will  show  the 
junction  by  a  little  knob  where  the  bud  was  inserted ; 
this  must  be  planted  at  least  three  inches  below  ground 
so  that  new  shoots  will  be  encouraged  to  spring  from 
above  the  bud,  as  those  below  are  merely  wild,  worth- 
less suckers,  to  be  removed  as  soon  as  they  appear. 


A  CONVENIENT  ROSE  BED. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  139 

How  can  you  tell  wild  suckers  from  the  desired  growth  ? 
At  first  by  following  them  back  to  the  root  until  you 
have  taken  their  measure,  but  as  soon  as  experience 
has  enlightened  you  they  will  be  as  easily  recognized 
at  sight  as  the  mongrel  dog  by  a  connoisseur.  Many 
admirable  varieties,  like  Jacqueminot,  Anne  de  Dies- 
bach,  Alfred  Colomb,  Madame  Plantier,  and  all  the 
climbers,  do  so  well  on  their  own  roots  that  it  is  foolish 
to  take  the  risk  of  budded  plants,  the  worse  side  of 
which  is  a  tendency  to  decay  at  the  point  of  juncture. 
Tea  roses,  being  of  rapid  growth  and  flowering  wholly 
upon  new  wood,  are  perfectly  satisfactory  when  rooted 
from  cuttings. 

Of  many  well- attested  varieties  of  hybrid  perpetuals, 
hybrid  China,  or  other  so-called  June  roses,  you  may  at 
the  start  safely  select  from  the  following  twenty. 

Pink,  of  various  shades 

i.  Anne  de  Diesbach.  One  of  the  most  fragrant, 
hardy,  and  altogether  satis- 
factory of  hybrid  perpetual 
roses.  Forms  a  large  bush, 
covered  with  large  deep  car- 
mine-pink flowers.  Should 
be  grown  on  own  root. 


140 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


2.  Paul  Neyron. 


3.   Cabbage,  or  Rose 
of  loo  Leaves. 


4.   Magna  Charta. 


5.   Clio. 


6.   Oakmont. 


7.   Marchioness  of 
Londonderry. 


Rose  pink,  of  large  size, 
handsome  even  when  fully 
open.  Fragrant  and  hardy. 

The  Provence  rose  of 
history  and  old  gardens, 
supposed  to  have  been 
known  to  Pliny.  Rich  pink, 
full,  fragrant,  and  hardy. 
Own  roots. 

A  fine  fragrant  pink 
rose  of  the  hybrid  China 
type.  Not  seen  as  often  as 
it  should  be.  Own  roots. 

A  vigorous  grower  with 
flesh-coloured  and  pink- 
shaded  blossoms. 

Exquisite  deep  rose,  fra- 
grant, vigorous,  and  with  a 
long  blooming  season. 

White 

Free,'  full,  and  fragrant. 
Immense  cream-white  flow- 
ers, carried  on  long  stems. 
Very  beautiful. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN 


141 


8.   Madame  Plantier 
(Hybrid  China). 


9.   Margaret  Dickson. 


10.   Coquette  des 
Blanches. 


ii.   Coquette  des  Alps. 


A  medium- sized,  pure 
white  rose,  with  creamy 
centre ;  flowers  so  profusely 
as  to  appear  to  be  in  clusters. 
Delicately  fragrant,  leaves 
deep  green  and  remarkably 
free  from  blights.  Per- 
fectly hardy ;  forms  so  large 
a  bush  in  time  that  it  should 
be  placed  in  the  rose  shrub- 
bery rather  than  amid 
smaller  species. 

A  splendid,  finely  formed, 
fragrant  white  rose,  with 
deep  green  foliage. 

One  of  the  very  hardy 
white  roses,  an  occasional 
pink  streak  tinting  the  out- 
side petals.  Cup-shaped 
and  a  profuse  bloomer. 

A  very  hardy  bush,  com- 
ing into  bloom  rather  later 
than  the  former  and  lasting 
well.  Satisfactory. 


142 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


Red  and  Crimson 
12.   General   Jacque-  Bright    velvety  crimson. 


minot 


13.   Alfred  Colomb. 


14.   Fisher  Holmes. 


15.  Marshal  P.  Wilder. 


The  established  favourite 
of  its  colour  and  class, 
though  fashion  has  in  some 
measure  pushed  it  aside 
for  newer  varieties.  May 
be  grown  to  a  large  shrub. 
Fragrant  and  hardy.  Best 
when  in  bud,  as  it  opens 
rather  flat. 

Bright  crimson.  Full, 
sweet.  A  vigorous  grower 
and  entirely  satisfactory. 
If  you  can  grow  but  one  red 
rose,  take  this. 

A  seedling  of  Jacque- 
minot, but  of  the  darkest 
velvety  crimson;  fragrant, 
and  blooms  very  early. 

Also  a  seedling  of  Jacque- 
minot. Vigorous  and  of 
well-set  foliage.  Full,  large 
flowers  of  a  bright  cherry 
red.  Very  fragrant. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN 


143 


1 6.   Marie  Bauman. 


17.   Jules  Margottin. 


1 8.    John  Hopper. 


19.   Prince  Camille  de 
Rohan. 


20.   Ulrich  Brunner. 


A  crimson  rose  of  delicious 
fragrance  and  lovely  shape. 
This  does  best  when  budded 
on  brier  or  Manette  stock, 
and  needs  petting  and  a  diet 
of  liquid  manure,  but  it  will 
repay  the  trouble. 

A  fine,  old-fashioned,  rich 
red  rose,  fragrant,  and  while 
humble  in  its  demands,  well 
repays  liberal  feeding. 

A  splendid,  early  crimson 
rose,  fragrant  and  easily 
cared  for. 

The  peer  of  dark  red 
roses,  not  large,  but  rich  in 
fragrance  and  of  deep 
colour. 

One  of  the  best  out-of- 
door  roses,  hardy,  carries  its 
bright  cerise  flowers  well, 
which  are  of  good  shape 
and  substance;  has  few 
diseases. 


144 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


Moss  Roses 

A  pure,  rich  white;  the 
buds,  which  are  heavily 
mossed,  borne  in  clusters. 

The  most  familiar  white 
moss  rose,  sometimes  tinged 
with  pink.  Open  flowers 
are  attractive  as  well  as  buds. 

Rich  pink,  deeply  mossed, 
each  bud  having  a  fringed 
crest;  fragrant  and  full. 

An  exquisite  moss  rose  of 
fairylike  construction,  the 
deep  pink  buds  being 
wrapped  and  fringed  with 
moss. 

A  hardy  pink  variety, 
good  only  in  the  bud. 

The  moss  roses  as  a  whole  only  bloom  satisfactorily 
in  June. 


1.  Blanch    Moreau 
(Perpetual). 

2.  White  Bath. 


3.   Crested  Moss. 


4.   Gracilis. 


5.   Common  Moss. 


Climbers 
i. 


i.   English  Sweetbrier. 


Single  pink  flowers  of  the 
wild- rose  type.  Foliage  of 
delicious  fragrance,  perfum- 
ing the  garden  after  rain  the 
season  through. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN 


145 


Penzance  Hybrid  Sweetbriers, 

Having  Fragrant  Foliage  and  Flowers 

of  Many  Beautiful  Colours 

Pink. 

Crimson. 
White. 


2.  Amy  Robsart. 

3.  Anne  of  Geierstein. 

4.  Minna. 

5.  Rose  Bradwardine. 


i.    Climbing     Jules 
Margottin. 


Baltimore  Belle. 


3.   Gem  of  the  Prairie. 


2. 


Deep  rose. 

Rosy  carmine,  very  fra- 
grant and  full,  satisfactory 
for  the  pergola,  but  more  so 
for  a  pillar,  where  in  winter 
it  can  be  protected  from 
wind  by  branches  or  straw. 

The  old-fashioned  blush 
rose,  with  clean  leaves  and 
solid  flowers  of  good  shape. 
Blooms  after  other  varieties 
are  over.  Trustworthy  and 
satisfactory,  though  not  fra- 
grant in  flower  or  leaf. 

Red  flowers  of  large  size, 
but  rather  flat  when  open. 
A  seedling  from  Queen  of 


i46 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


Gem  of  the  Prairie 
(continued). 


4.  Climbing     Belle 
Siebrecht   (Hybrid 
Tea). 

5.  Gloire  de  Dijon. 


the  Prairie,  and  though  not 
as  free  as  its  parent,  it  has 
the  desirable  quality  of 
fragrance. 

•  Fragrant,  vigorous,  and  of 
the  same  deep  pink  as  the 
standard  variety.  Grow  on 
pillars. 

Colour  an  indescribable 
blending  of  rose,  buff,  and 
yellow,  deliciously  fragrant, 
double  to  the  heart  of 
crumpled,  cre"pelike  petals. 
A  tea  rose  and,  as  an  out- 
door climber,  tender  north 
of  Washington,  yet  it  can  be 
grown  on  a  pillar  by  cover- 
ing as  described  on  page  1 26. 


Hybrid  Tea  Roses 


i.  La  France. 


The  fragrant  silver-pink 
rose,  with  full,  heavy  flow- 
ers, —  the  combination  of 
all  a  rose  should  be.  In  the 
open  garden  the  sun  changes 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN 


La  France  (continued). 


2.   Kaiserin  Augusta 
Victoria. 


3.   Gruss  an  Teplitz. 


4.    Killarney. 


its  delicate  colour  quickly. 
Should  be  gathered  in  the 
bud  at  evening  or,  better  yet, 
early  morning.  Very  hardy 
if  properly  covered,  and 
grows  to  a  good-sized 
bush. 

White,  with  a  lemon  tint 
in  the  folds;  the  fragrance 
is  peculiar  to  itself,  faintly 
suggesting  the  Gardenia. 

One  of  the  newer  crimson 
roses,  vigorous,  with  well- 
cupped  flowers.  Good  for 
decorative  value  in  the  gar- 
den, but  not  a  rose  of  senti- 
ment. 

One  of  the  newer  roses 
that  has  made  good.  Beau- 
tiful pointed  buds  of  shell- 
pink,  full  and  at  the  same 
time  delicate.  The  foliage 
is  very  handsome.  If  well 
fed,  will  amply  repay 
labour. 


i48  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


5.  Souvenir  de  Mal- 
maison. 


6.   Clothilde  Soupert. 


7.  Souvenir  de  Presi- 
dent Carnot. 


A  Bourbon  rose  that 
should  be  treated  like  a 
hybrid  tea.  Shell-pink, 
fragrant  flowers,  that  have 
much  the  same  way  of 
opening  as  Gloire  de  Dijon. 
A  constant  bloomer. 

A  polyantha  or  cluster 
rose  of  vigorous  growth  and 
glistening  foliage,  quite  as 
hardy  as  the  hybrid  tea.  It 
is  of  dwarf  growth  and  suit- 
able for  edging  beds  of 
larger  roses.  The  shell-pink 
flowers  are  of  good  form  and 
very  double ;  as  they  cluster 
very  thickly  on  the  ends  of 
the  stems,  the  buds  should 
be  thinned  out,  as  they  have 
an  aggravating  tendency  to 
mildew  before  opening. 

A  charming  rose  with 
shadows  of  all  the  flesh  tints, 
from  white  through  blush  to 
rose;  sturdy  and  free. 


A  SIMPLE   ROSE   GARDEN 


149 


8.   Caroline  Testout. 


i.   Bon  Silene. 


2.   Papa  Gontier. 


3.   Safrano. 


Very  large,  round  flowers, 
of  a  delicate  shell- pink, 
flushed  with  salmon ;  sturdy. 
Teas 

The  old  favourite,  unsur- 
passed for  fragrance  as  a 
button-hole  flower,  or  table 
decoration  when  blended 
with  ferns  or  fragrant  foliage 
plants.  Colour  "Bon  Si- 
lene," tints  of  shaded  pink 
and  carmine,  all  its  own. 

A  rose  as  vigorous  as  the 
hybrid  teas,  and  one  that 
may  be  easily  wintered. 
Pointed  buds  of  deep  rose 
shading  to  crimson  and  as 
fragrant  as  Bon  Silene,  of 
which  it  is  a  hybrid.  Flow- 
ers should  be  gathered  in 
the  bud. 

A  true  "tea"  rose  of 
characteristic  shades  of  buff 
and  yellow,  with  the  tea 
fragrance  in  all  its  perfec- 


THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 


Safrano  (continued). 


4.   Perle  des  Jardins. 


5.   Bride. 


6.   Bridesmaid. 


tion.  Best  in  the  bud. 
Vigorous  and  a  fit  compan- 
ion for  Papa  Gontier  and 
Bon  Silene. 

An  exquisite,  fragrant 
double  rose  of  light  clear 
yellow,  suggesting  the  Mare- 
chal  Niel  in  form,  but 
of  paler  colour.  Difficult 
to  winter  out  of  doors,  but 
worth  the  trouble  of  lifting 
to  cold  pit  or  light  cellar, 
or  the  expense  of  renewing 
annually.  One  of  the 
lovable  roses. 

The  clear  white  rose, 
sometimes  with  lemon  shad- 
ings  used  for  forcing ;  clean, 
handsome  foliage  and  good 
fragrance.  Very  satisfac- 
tory in  my  garden  when 
old  plants  are  used,  as  de- 
scribed. 

The  pink  companion  of 
the  above  with  similar  attri- 
butes. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  151 

7.  Etoille  de  Lyon.  A  vigorous,  deep  yellow 

rose,  full  and  sweet.  Almost 
as  hardy  as  a  hybrid  tea  and 
very  satisfactory. 

8.  Souvenir  d'un  Ami.  A    deliciously     fragrant 

light  pink  rose,  with 
salmon  shadings.  Very 
satisfactory  and  as  hardy 
as  some  of  the  hybrid  teas. 

Miscellaneous  Roses  for  the  Shrubbery 

1.  Harrison's  Yellow.  An   Austrian   brier  rose 

with  clear  yellow  semi- 
double  flowers.  Early  and 
very  hardy.  Should  be 
grown  on  its  own  roots,  as  it 
will  then  spread  into  a 
thicket  and  make  the  rosary 
a  mass  of  shimmering  gold 
in  early  June. 

Damask  Roses 

Should  be  grown  on  own 
root,  when  they  will  form 
shrubs  five  feet  high. 

2.  Madame  Hardy.  Pure  white.     Very  fra- 


152  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Madame  Hardy  grant,   well-cupped   flower, 

(continued).  Time  tried  and  sturdy. 

3.  Rosa    Damascena         Rose  colour. 
Triginitipela. 

Rugosa 

The  tribe  of  Japanese 
origin,  conspicuous  as 
bushes  of  fine  foliage  and 
handsome  shape,  as  well  as 
for  the  large  single  blossoms 
that  are  followed  by  seed 
vessels  of  brilliant  scarlet 
hues. 

4.  Agnes  Emily  Carman.     Flowers       in       clusters, 

"Jacqueminot"  red,  with 
long-fringed  golden  sta- 
mens. Continuous  bloomer. 
Hardy  and  perfect. 

5.  Rugosa  alba.  Pure    white,     highly 

scented. 

6.  Rugosa  rubra.  Single  crimson  flowers  of 

great  beauty. 

7.  Chedane  Guinoisseau.      Flowers,  satin  pink  and 

very  large.  Blooms  all  the 
summer. 


A  SIMPLE  ROSE  GARDEN  153 

Now,  Mary  Penrose,  having  made  up  your  mind 
to  have  a  rosary,  cause  garden  line  and  shovel  to  be  set 
in  that  side  lawn  of  yours  without  hesitation.  Do  not 
wait  until  autumn,  because  you  cannot  plant  the  hardy 
roses  until  then  and  do  not  wish  to  contemplate  bare 
ground.  This  sight  is  frequently  wholesome  and  pro- 
vocative of  good  horticultural  digestion.  You  need 
only  begin  with  one-half  of  Evan's  plan,  letting  the 
pergola  enclose  the  walk  back  of  the  house,  and  later 
on  you  can  add  the  other  wing. 

If  the  pergola  itself  is  built  during  the  summer,  you 
can  sit  under  it,  and  by  going  over  your  list  and  colour 
scheme  locate  each  rose  finally  before  its  arrival.  By 
the  way,  until  the  climbers  are  well  started  you  may 
safely  alternate  them  with  vines  of  the  white  panicled 
clematis,  that  will  be  in  bloom  in  August  and  can  be 
easily  kept  from  clutching  its  rose  neighbours ! 

By  and  by,  when  you  have  planted  your  roses,  tucked 
them  in  their  winter  covers,  and  can  sit  down  with  a 
calm  mind,  I  will  lend  you  three  precious  rose  books  of 
mine.  These  are  Dean  Hole's  Book  about  Roses,  for 
both  the  wit  and  wisdom  o't ;  The  Amateur  Gardener's 
Rose  Book,  rescued  from  the  German  by  John  Weathers, 
F.R.H.S.,  for  its  common  sense,  well-arranged  list  of 
roses,  and  beautiful  coloured  plates,  and  H.  B.  Ell- 


i54  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

wanger's  little  treatise  on  The  Rose,  a  competent 
chronology  of  the  flower  queen  up  to  1901,  written  con- 
cisely and  from  the  American  standpoint.  If  I  should 
send  them  now,  you  would  be  so  bewildered  by  the 
enumeration  of  varieties,  many  unsuited  to  this  climate, 
intoxicated  by  the  descriptions  of  Rose-garden  possi- 
bilities, and  carried  away  by  the  literary  and  horticul- 
tural enthusiasm  of  the  one-time  master  of  the  Deanery 
Garden,  Rochester,  that,  like  the  child  turned  loose 
in  the  toy  shop,  you  would  lose  the  power  of  choosing. 

Lavinia  Cortright  lost  nearly  a  year  in  beginning  her 
rosary,  owing  to  a  similar  condition  of  mind,  and 
Evan  and  I  long  ago  decided  that  when  we  read  we 
cannot  work,  and  vice  versa,  so  when  the  Garden  of 
Outdoors  is  abed  and  asleep  each  year,  we  enter  the 
Garden  of  Books  with  fresh  delight. 

Have  you  a  man  with  quick  wit  and  a  straight  eye  to 
be  the  spade  hand  during  the  Garden  Vacation  ?  If  not, 
make  haste  to  find  him,  for,  as  you  have  had  Barney  for 
five  years,  he  is  probably  too  set  in  his  ways  to  work 
at  innovations  cheerfully ! 


VIII 
A   MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 

June  21.  The  rosary  has  been  duly  surveyed, 
staked  according  to  the  plan,  and  the  border  lines 
fixed  with  the  garden  line  dipped  in  whitewash,  so 
that  if  we  only  plant  a  bed  at  a  time,  our  ambition  will 
always  be  before  us.  But  as  yet  no  man  cometh  to  dig. 
This  process  is  of  greater  import  than  it  may  seem, 
because  with  the  vigorous  three-year-old  sod  thus  ob- 
tained do  we  purpose  to  turf  the  edges  of  the  beds 
for  hardy  and  summer  flowers  that  border  the  squares 
of  the  vegetable  garden.  These  strips  now  crumble 
earth  into  the  walks,  and  the  slightest  footfall  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  landslide.  We  had  intended  to  use  narrow 
boards  for  edging,  but  Bart  objects,  like  the  old  retainer 
in  Kipling's  story  of  An  Habitation  Enforced,  on  the 
ground  that  they  will  deteriorate  from  the  beginning 
and  have  to  be  renewed  every  few  years,  whereas  the 
turf  will  improve,  even  if  it  is  more  trouble  to  care  for. 

At  present  the  necessity  of  permanence  is  one  of  the 


156  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

things  that  is  impressing  us  both,  for  after  us  —  the 
Infant !  Until  a  year  ago  I  had  a  positive  dread  of  being 
so  firmly  fixed  anywhere  that  to  spread  wings  and  fly 
here  and  there  would  be  difficult,  but  now  it  seems 
the  most  delightful  thing  to  be  rooted  like  the  old  apple 
tree  on  the  side  hill,  the  last  of  the  old  orchard,  that  has 
leaned  against  the  upland  winds  so  many  years  that  it 
is  well-nigh  bent  double,  yet  the  root  anchors  hold 
and  it  is  still  a  thing  of  beauty,  like  rosy-cheeked  old 
folk  with  snowy  hair.  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever 
realized  this  in  its  fulness  until  I  left  the  house  and  came 
out,  though  but  a  short  way,  to  live  with  and  in  it  all. 

You  were  right  in  thinking  that  Barney  would  not  en- 
courage innovations,  —  he  does  not !  He  says  that 
turf  lifted  in  summer  always  lies  uneasy  and  breeds 
worms. 

This  seems  to  be  an  age  for  the  defiance  of  horticultu- 
ral tradition,  for  we  are  finding  out  every  day  that  you 
can  "lift"  almost  anything  of  herbaceous  growth  at 
any  time  and  make  it  live,  if  you  are  willing  to  take  pains 
enough,  though  of  course  transplanting  is  done  with 
less  trouble  and  risk  at  the  prescribed  seasons. 

The  man-with-the-shovel  question  is  quite  a  serious 
one  hereabouts  at  present,  for  the  Water  Company 
has  engaged  all  the  rough-and-ready  labourers  for  a  long 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  157 

season  and  that  has  raised  both  the  prices  and  the  noses 
of  the  wandering  accommodators  in  the  air.  Something 
will  probably  turn  up.  Now  we  are  transplanting  hardy 
ferns;  for  though  the  tender  tops  break,  there  is  yet 
plenty  of  time  for  a  second  growth  and  rooting  before 
winter. 

Meanwhile  there  is  a  leisurely  old  carpenter  who 
recently  turned  up  as  heir  of  the  Opal  Farm,  Amos 
Opie  by  name,  who  is  thinking  of  living  there, 
and  has  signified  his  willingness  to  undertake  the  per- 
gola by  hour's  work,  "if  he  is  not  hustled,"  as  soon  as 
the  posts  arrive. 

The  past  ten  days  have  been  full  of  marvellous  dis- 
coveries for  the  "peculiar  Penroses,"  as  Maria  Maxwell 
heard  us  called  down  at  the  Golf  Club,  where  she  rep- 
resented me  at  the  mid- June  tea,  which  I  had  wholly 
forgotten  that  I  had  promised  to  manage  when  I  sent  out 
those  P.  P.  C.  cards  and  stopped  the  clocks ! 

It  seems  that  the  first  impression  was  that  financial 
disaster  had  overtaken  us,  when  instead  of  vanishing  in 
a  touring  car  preceded  by  tooting  and  followed  by  a 
cloud  of  oil-soaked  steam,  we  took  to  our  own  woods, 
followed  by  Barney  with  our  effects  in  a  wheelbarrow. 
It  is  a  very  curious  fact  —  this  attributing  of  every 
action  a  bit  out  of  the  common  to  the  stress  of  pocket 


158  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

hunger.  It  certainly  proves  that  advanced  as  we  are 
supposed  to  be  to-day  as  links  in  the  evolutionary 
chain,  we  have  partially  relapsed  and  certainly  show 
strong  evidences  of  sheep  ancestry. 

Haven't  you  noticed,  Mrs.  Evan,  how  seldom  people 
are  content  to  accept  one's  individual  tastes  or  desire  to 
do  a  thing  without  a  good  and  sufficient  reason  therefor  ? 
It  seems  incomprehensible  to  them  that  any  one  should 
wish  to  do  differently  from  his  neighbour  unless  from 
financial  incapacity;  the  frequency  with  which  one  is 
suspected  of  being  in  this  condition  strongly  points  to 
the  likelihood  that  the  critics  themselves  chronically 
live  beyond  their  means  and  in  constant  danger  of  col- 
lapse. 

If  this  was  thought  of  us  a  few  weeks  ago,  it  seems  to 
have  been  sidetracked  by  Maria  Maxwell's  contribution 
to,  and  management  of,  the  golf  tea.  She  is  said  not 
only  to  have  compounded  viands  that  are  ordinarily 
sold  in  exchange  for  many  dollars  by  New  York 
confectioners,  but  she  certainly  made  more  than  a  pre- 
sentable appearance  as  "matron"  of  the  receiving  com- 
mittee of  young  girls.  Certainly  Maria  with  a  music 
roll,  a  plain  dark  suit,  every  hair  tethered  fast,  and  com- 
mon-sense shoes,  plodding  about  her  vocation  in  snow 
and  mud,  and  Maria  "let  loose,"  as  Bart  calls  it,  are  a 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  159 

decided  contrast.  Except  that  she  has  not  parted  with 
her  sunny  common-sense,  she  is  quite  a  new  person. 
Of  course  I  could  not  have  objected  to  it,  but  I  was  afraid 
that  she  might  take  it  into  her  head  to  instruct  the  Infant 
in  vocal  music  after  the  manner  of  the  locustlike  sounds 
that  you  hear  coming  over  the  lowered  tops  of  school 
windows  as  soon  as  the  weather  grows  warm,  or  else 
take  to  practising  scales  herself,  for  we  had  only  known 
the  technical  part  of  her  calling.  In  short,  we  feared 
that  we  should  be  do-re-mi-ou'd  past  endurance.  In- 
stead of  which,  scraps  of  the  gayest  of  ballads  float  over 
the  knoll  in  the  evening,  and  the  Infant's  little  shrill 
pipe  is  being  inoculated  with  real  music,  via  Mother 
Goose  melodies  sung  in  a  delightfully  subdued  con- 
tralto. 

From  the  third  day  after  her  arrival  people  began  to 
call  upon  Maria.  I  made  such  a  positive  declaration  of 
surrender  of  all  matters  pertaining  to  the  household, 
including  curiosity,  when  Maria  took  charge,  —  and  she 
in  return  promised  that  we  should  not  be  bothered  with 
anything  not  "of  vital  importance  to  our  interests," — 
that,  unless  she  runs  through  the  housekeeping  money 
before  the  time,  I  haven't  a  ghost  of  an  excuse  for  asking 
questions, —  but  I  do  wonder  how  she  manages !  Also, 
to  whom  the  shadows  belong  that  cross  the  south  piazza 


i6o  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

at  night  or  intercept  the  rays  of  the  dining-room  lamp, 
our  home  beacon  of  dark  nights. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  and  convenient  modern  shirt- 
waist -and- skirt  endowment,  Maria  had  when  she  came 
but  two  gowns,  one  of  black  muslin  and  the  other  white, 
with  improvised  hats  to  match,  —  simple,  graceful 
gowns,  yet  oversombre. 

But  lo !  she  has  blossomed  forth  like  a  spring  seed 
catalogue,  and  Bart  insists  that  I  watched  the  gate  with 
his  field-glass  an  hour  the  afternoon  of  the  tea,  to  see 
her  go  out.  I  did  no  such  thing ;  I  was  looking  at  an 
oriole's  nest  that  hangs  in  the  elm  over  the  road,  but 
I  could  not  help  seeing  the  lovely  pink  flower  hat  that 
she  wore  atilt,  with  just  enough  pink  at  the  neck  and 
streamers  at  the  waist  of  her  dress  to  harmonize. 

I  visited  the  larder  that  evening  for  supper  supplies, 
—  yes,  we  have  become  so  addicted  to  the  freedom  of 
outdoors  that  for  the  last  few  days  Bart  has  brought 
even  the  dinner  up  to  camp,  waiting  upon  me  beauti- 
fully, for  now  we  have  entirely  outgrown  the  feeling  of 
the  first  few  days  that  we  were  taking  part  in  a  comedy, 
and  have  found  ourselves,  as  it  were  —  in  some  ways, 
I  think,  for  the  first  time. 

Anastasia  seemed  consumed  with  a  desire  for  a  dish 
of  gossip,  but  was  not  willing  to  take  the  initiative.  She 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  161 

chuckled  to  herself  and  tried  several  perfectly  transpar- 
ent ways  of  attracting  my  attention,  until  I  took  pity 
on  her,  a  very  one-sided  pity  too,  for,  between  ourselves, 
Anastasia  is  the  domestic  salt  and  pepper  that  gives  the 
Garden  Vacation  a  flavour  that  I  should  sadly  miss. 

"Miss  Marie,"  she  exclaimed,  "do  be  the  tastiest 
creaytur  ever  I  set  me  eyes  on."  (She  refused  absolutely 
to  call  her  Maria ;  that  name,  she  holds,  is  only  fit  for  a 
settled  old  maid,  "and  that  same  it's  not  sure  and  fair 
to  mark  any  woman  wid  being  this  side  the  grave."  ) 

Then  I  knew  that  I  only  had  to  sit  down  and  raise 
my  eyes  to  Anastasia's  face  in  an  attitude  of  attention, 
to  open  the  word  gates,  and  this  I  did. 

"Well,  fust  off  win  she  got  the  invite  ter  sing  at 
the  swarry  that  tops  off  the  day's  doings  down  to 
that  Golf  Club,  she  was  that  worried  about  hats  you 
never  seen  the  like !  She  wus  over  ter  Bridgeton,  and 
Barney  swore  he  drove  her  ter  every  milliner  in  the 
place,  and  says  she  ter  me,  pleasant  like,  that  evenin', 
when  returned,  in  excuse  fer  havin'  nothin'  to  show, 
'Oh,  Annie,  Annie,  it  would  break  yer  heart  to  see  the 
little  whisp  of  flowers  they  ask  five  dollars  for;  to  fix  me 
hats  a  trifle  would  part  me  from  a  tin-dollar  bill!'" 

(The  sentiments  I  at  once  perceived  might  be  Maria's, 
but  their  translation  Anastasia's.) 


162  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

"Now  Miss  Marie,  she's  savin'  like,  —  not  through 
meanness,  but  because  she's  got  the  good  Irish  heart 
that  boils  against  payin'  rint,  and  she's  hoardin'  crown  by 
shillin'  till  she  kin  buy  her  a  cabin  and  to  say  a  pertaty 
patch  for  a  garden,  somewhere  out  where  it's  green ! 
Faith!  but  she'll  do  it  too;  she's  a  manager!  Yez 
had  orter  see  the  illigant  boned  turkey  she  made  out  o' 
veal,  stuck  through  with  shrivelled  black  ground  apples, 
she  called  'puffles' !  an  glued  it  up  foine  wid  jelly. 
Sez  I,  'They'll  never  know  the  difference,'  but  off  she 
goes  and  lets  it  out  and  tells  the  makin'  uv  it  ter 
every  woman  on  the  hill, — that's  all  I  hev  agin  her. 
She's  got  a  disease  o'  truth-telling  when  there's  no  need 
that  would  anguish  the  saints  o'  Hiven  theirselves ! 

"'I  kin  make  better  'n  naturaler-lookin'  hats  fer 
nothin',  here  at  home,  than  they  keep  in  N'  York,'  she 
says  after  looking  out  the  back  window  a  piece.  'And 
who'll  help  yer?'  says  I,  'and  where'll  yer  git  the 
posies  and  what  all?' 

"'I  bought  some  bolts  o'  ribbon  to-day/  says  she, 
smilin';  'and  fer  the  rest,  the  garden,  you,  and  I  will 
manage  it  together,  if  you'll  lend  me  a  shelf  all  to  meself 
in  the  cold  closet  whenever  I  need  it ! '  Sure  fer  a  mo- 
ment I  wuz  oneasy,  fer  I  thought  a  wild  streak  run 
branchin'  through  all  the  boss's  family!" 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  163 

(At  the  words  Garden,  You,  and  I,  there  flashed 
through  me  the  thought  of  some  telepathic  influence  at 
work.) 

"'The  garden's  full  o'  growin'  posies  that  outshames 
the  flower-makers;  watch  out  and  see,  Anastasia!' 

"Well  and  I  did!!  This  mornin'  early  she  picks  a 
lot  o'  them  sticky  pink  flowers  by  the  stoop,  the  colour 
o'  chiny  shells,  wid  spokes  in  them  like  umbrellas,  and 
the  thick  green  leaves,  and  after  leavin'  'em  in  water  a 
spell,  puts  'em  in  me  cold  closet,  a  small  bit  o'  wet  moss 
tied  to  each  stem  end  wid  green  sewin'  silk !  A  piece 
after  dinner  out  she  comes  wid  the  hat  that's  covered 
with  strong  white  lace,  and  she  cocks  it  this  way  and 
pinches  it  that  and  sews  the  flowers  to  it  quick  wid  a 
big  thread  and  a  great  splashin'  bow  on  behind,  and 
into  the  cold  box  agin ! 

"'That's  fer  this  afternoon,'  says  she,  and  before 
she  wore  it  off  (a  hat  that  Eve,  mother  o'  sin,  and  us  all 
would  envy),  she'd  another  ready  for  the  night !  'Will 
it  spoil  now  and  give  yer  away,  I  wonder  ?'  says  I, 
anxious  like. 

"'Not  fer  two  hours,  at  least;  and  it'll  keep 
me  from  stayin'  too  long ;  if  I  do,  it'll  wither  away  and 
leave  me  all  forlorn,  like  Cinderella  and  her  pumpkin 
coach!'  she  said  a-smilin'  kind  uv  to  herself  in  me 


164  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

kitchen  mirror,  when  she  put  the  hat  on.  '  But  I'm 
not  insultin'  God's  flowers  tryin'  to  pass  them  off 
for  French  ones,  Annie,'  says  she.  'I'm  settin'  anew 
garden  fashion;  let  them  follow  who  will!'  and  away 
wid  her!  That  same  other  is  in  here  now,  and  it's 
no  sin  to  let  yer  peep,  gin  it's  ye  own  posies  and  ye  chest 
they're  in. "  So,  throwing  open  the  door  Anastasia  re- 
vealed the  slate  shelf  covered  by  a  sheet  of  white  paper, 
while  resting  on  an  empty  pickle  jar,  for  a  support,  was 
the  second  hat,  of  loosely  woven  black  straw  braid,  an 
ornamental  wire  edging  the  brim  that  would  allow 
it  to  take  a  dozen  shapes  at  will.  It  was  garlanded  by 
a  close- set  wreath  of  crimson  peonies  grading  down  to 
blush,  all  in  half  bud  except  one  full-blown  beauty 
high  in  front  and  one  under  the  brim  set  well  against 
the  hair,  while  covering  the  wire,  caught  firm  and  close, 
were  glossy,  fragrant  leaves  of  the  wild  sweetbrier  made 
into  a  vine. 

Ah,  well,  this  is  an  unexpected  development  born  of 
our  experiment  and  a  human  sort  of  chronicle  for  The 
Garden,  You,  and  I. 

One  of  the  most  puzzling  things  in  this  living  out-of- 
doors  on  our  own  place  is  the  reversal  of  our  ordinary 
viewpoints.  Never  before  did  I  realize  how  we  look 
at  the  outdoor  world  from  inside  the  house,  where  inani- 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  165 

mate  things  force  themselves  into  comparison.  Now 
we  are  seeing  from  outside  and  looking  in  at  ourselves, 
so  to  speak,  very  much  like  the  robin,  who  has  his  third 
nest,  lop-sided  disaster  having  overtaken  the  other  two, 
in  the  old  white  lilac  tree  over  my  window. 

Some  of  our  doings,  judged  from  the  vantage  point  of 
the  knoll,  are  very  inconsistent.  The  spot  occupied 
by  the  drying  yard  is  the  most  suitable  place  for  the  new 
strawberry  bed,  and  is  in  a  direct  line  between  the  fence 
gap,  where  my  fragrant  things  are  to  be,  and  the  Rose 
Garden.  Several  of  the  walks  that  have  been  laid 
out  according  to  the  plan,  when  seen  from  this  height, 
curve  around  nothing  and  reach  nowhere.  We  shall 
presently  satisfy  their  empty  embraces  with  shrubs 
and  locate  various  other  conspicuous  objects  at  the 
terminals. 

Also,  the  house  is  kept  too  much  shut  up;  it  looks 
inhospitable,  seen  through  the  trees,  with  branches 
always  tossing  wide  to  the  breeze  and  sun.  Even  if 
a  room  is  unoccupied  by  people,  it  is  no  reason  why  the 
sun  should  be  barred  out,  and  at  best  we  ourselves  surely 
spend  too  much  time  in  our  houses  in  the  season  when 
every  tree  is  a  roof.  We  have  decided  not  to  move  in- 
doors again  this  summer,  but  to  lodge  here  in  the  time 
between  vacations  and  to  annex  the  Infant. 


166  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Oh,  Mrs.  Evan,  dear !  there  is  one  thing  in  which 
The  Man  from  Everywhere  reckoned  without  his  host ! 
Stopping  the  clocks  when  we  went  in  camp  did  not  dis- 
lodge Time  from  the  premises ;  rather  did  it  open  the 
door  to  his  entrance  hours  earlier  than  usual,  when  one 
of  the  chiefest  luxuries  we  promised  ourselves  was  late 
sleeping. 

Stretched  on  our  wire-springed,  downy  cots  (there  is 
positively  no  virtue  in  sleeping  on  hard  beds,  and  Bart 
considers  it  an  absolute  vice),  there  is  a  delicious  period 
before  sleep  comes.  Bats  flit  about  the  rafters,  and  an 
occasional  swallow  twitters  and  shifts  among  the  beams 
as  the  particular  nest  it  guarded  grew  high  and  diffi- 
cult to  mount  from  the  growth  of  the  lusty  brood  within . 
The  scuffle  of  little  feet  over  the  rough  floor  brings  indo- 
lent, half-indifferent  guessing  as  to  which  of  the  lesser 
four-foots  they  belonged.  The  whippoorwills  down  in 
the  river  woods  call  until  they  drop  off,  one  by  one,  and 
the  timid  ditty  of  a  singing  mouse  that  lives  under  the 
floor  by  my  cot  is  the  last  message  the  sandman  sends 
to  close  our  eyes  before  sleep.  And  such  sleep !  That 
first  steel-blue  starlit  night  in  the  open  we  said  that 
we  meant  to  sleep  and  sleep  it  out,  even  if  we  lost  a 
whole  day  by  it.  It  seemed  but  a  moment  after  sleep  had 
claimed  us,  when,  struggling  through  the  heavy  darkness, 


•\J 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  167 

came  far-away  light  strands  groping  for  our  eyes,  and 
soft,  half-uttered  music  questioning  the  ear.  Returning 
I  opened  my  eyes,  and  there  was  the  sun  struggling 
slowly  through  the  screen  of  white  birches  in  Opie's  wood 
lot,  and  scattering  the  night  mists  that  bound  down  the 
Opal  Farm  with  heavy  strands ;  the  air  was  tense  with 
flitting  wings,  bird  music  rose,  fell,  and  drifted  with  the 
mist,  and  it  was  only  half-past  four !  You  cannot  kill 
time,  you  see,  by  stopping  clocks  —  with  nature  day  7s, 
beyond  all  dispute.  In  two  days,  by  obeying  instead 
of  opposing  natural  sun  time,  we  had  swung  half  round 
the  clock,  only  now  and  then  imitating  the  habits  of  our 
four-footed  brothers  that  steal  abroad  in  the  security 
of  twilight. 

June  24.  Amos  Opie,  the  carpenter,  owner  of  Opal 
Farm,  is  now  keeping  widower's  hall  in  the  summer 
kitchen  thereof.  A  thin  thread  of  smoke  comes  idly  from 
the  chimney  of  the  lean-to  in  the  early  morning,  and  at 
evening  the  old  man  sits  in  the  well-house  porch  reading 
his  paper  so  long  as  the  light  lasts,  a  hound  of  the 
ancient  blue-spotted  variety,  with  heavy  black  and  tan 
markings,  keeping  him  company. 

These  two  figures  give  the  finishing  touch  to  the  pic- 
ture that  lies  beyond  us  as  we  look  from  the  sheltered  cor- 
ner of  the  camp,  and  strangely  enough,  though  old  Opie 


i68  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

is  not  of  the  direct  line  and  has  never  lived  in  this  part 
of  New  England  before,  he  goes  about  with  a  sort  of 
half- reminiscent  air,  as  if  picking  up  a  clew  long  lost, 
while  Dave,  the  hound,  at  once  assumed  proprietary 
rights  and  shows  an  uncanny  wisdom  about  the  well- 
nigh  fenceless  boundaries.  After  his  master  has  gone 
to  bed,  Dave  will  often  come  over  to  visit  us,  after  the 
calm  fashion  of  a  neighbour  who  esteems  it  a  duty. 
At  least  that  was  his  attitude  at  first ;  but  after  a  while, 
when  I  had  told  him  what  a  fine,  melancholy  face  he  had, 
that  it  was  a  mistake  not  to  have  christened  him  Hamlet, 
and  that  altogether  he  was  a  good  fellow,  following  up 
the  conversation  with  a  comforting  plate  of  meat  scraps 
(Opie  being  evidently  a  vegetarian),  Dave  began  to 
develop  a  more  youthful  disposition.  A  week  ago 
Bart's  long-promised,  red  setter  pup  arrived,  a  spirit 
of  mischief  on  four  clumsy  legs.  Hardly  had  I  taken 
him  from  his  box  (I  wished  to  be  the  one  to  "first  foot" 
him  from  captivity  into  the  family,  for  that  is  a  cour- 
tesy a  dog  never  forgets)  when  we  saw  that  Dave  was 
sitting  just  outside  the  doorless  threshold  watching 
solemnly. 

The  puppy,  with  a  gleeful  bark,  licked  the  veteran 
on  the  nose,  whereat  the  expression  of  his  face  changed 
from  one  of  uncertainty  to  a  smile  of  indulgent  if  ma- 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  169 

ture  pleasure,  and  now  he  takes  his  young  friend  on  a 
daily  ramble  down  the  pasture  through  the  bit  of  marshy 
ground  to  the  river,  always  bringing  him  back  within 
a  reasonable  length  of  time,  with  an  air  of  pride.  Evi- 
dently the  hound  was  lonely. 

The  Man  from  Everywhere,  who  prowls  about  even 
more  than  usual,  using  Bart's  den  for  his  own  mean- 
while, says  that  the  setter  will  be  ruined,  for  the  hound 
will  be  sure  to  trail  him  on  fox  and  rabbit,  and  that 
in  consequence  he  will  never  after  keep  true  to  birds,  but 
somehow  we  do  not  care,  this  dog-friendship  between 
the  stranger  and  the  pup  is  so  interesting. 

By  the  way,  we  have  financially  persuaded  Opie  to 
leave  his  straggling  meadow,  that  carpets  our  vista  to 
the  river,  for  a  wild  garden  this  summer,  instead  of  sell- 
ing it  as  "standing  grass,"  which  the  purchasers  had 
usually  mown  carelessly  and  tossed  into  poor-grade 
hay,  giving  a  pittance  in  exchange  that  went  for 
taxes. 

So  many  flowers  and  vines  have  sprung  up  under 
shelter  of  the  tumble-down  fences  that  I  was  very  anx- 
ious to  see  what  pictures  would  paint  themselves  if  the 
canvas,  colour,  and  brushes  were  left  free  for  the  season 
through.  Already  we  have  had  our  money's  worth, 
so  that  everything  beyond  will  be  an  extra  dividend. 


170  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

The  bit  of  marshy  ground  has  been  for  weeks  a  lake  of 
iris,  its  curving  brink  foamed  with  meadow  rue  and 
Osmundas  that  have  all  the  dignity  of  palms. 

Now  all  the  pasture  edge  is  set  with  wild  roses  and 
wax-white  blueberry  flowers.  Sundrops  are  grouped 
here  and  there,  with  yellow  thistles ;  the  native  sweet- 
brier  arches  over  gray  boulders  that  are  tumbled  to- 
gether like  the  relic  of  some  old  dwelling ;  and  the  purple 
red  calopogon  of  the  orchid  tribe  adds  a  new  colour  to 
the  tapestry,  the  cross-stitch  filling  being  all  of  field 
daisies.  Truly  this  old  farm  is  a  well-nigh  perfect  wild 
garden,  the  strawberries  dyeing  the  undergrass  red, 
and  the  hedges  bound  together  with  grape-vines.  It 
does  not  need  rescuing,  but  letting  alone,  to  be  the  de- 
light of  every  one  who  wishes  to  enjoy. 

On  being  approached  as  to  his  future  plans,  Amos 
Opie  merely  sets  his  lips,  brings  his  finger-tips  together, 
and  says,  "I'm  open  to  offers,  but  I'm  not  bound  to 
set  a  price  or  hurry  my  decisions." 

Meanwhile  I  am  living  in  a  double  tremor,  of  delight 
at  the  present  and  fear  lest  some  one  may  snap  up  the 
place  and  give  us  what  the  comic  paper  called  a  Queen 
Mary  Anne  cottage  and  a  stiff  lawn  surrrounded  by  a 
gas-pipe  fence  to  gaze  upon.  O  for  a  pair  of  neigh- 
bours who  would  join  us  in  comfortable  vagabondage, 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  171 

leave  the  white  birches  to  frame  the  meadows  and 
the  wild  flowers  in  the  grass ! 

June  25.  We  have  been  having  some  astonishing 
thunder-storms  of  nights  lately,  and  I  must  say  that 
upon  one  occasion  I  fled  to  the  house.  Two  nights  ago, 
however,  the  sun  set  in  an  even  sky  of  lead,  there  was  no 
wind,  no  grumblings  of  thunder.  We  had  passed  a 
a  very  active  day  and  finished  placing  the  stakes  on  the 
knoll  in  the  locations  to  be  occupied  by  shrubs  and 
trees,  all  numbered  according  to  the  tagged  specimens 
over  in  the  reservoir  woods. 

The  Man  from  Everywhere  suggested  this  system, 
an  adaptation,  he  says,  from  the  usual  one  of  number- 
ing stones  for  a  bit  of  masonry.  It  will  prevent  confu- 
sion, for  the  perspective  will  be  different  when  the 
leaves  have  fallen,  and  as  we  lift  the  bushes,  each 
one  will  go  to  its  place,  and  we  shall  not  lose  a  year's 
growth,  or  perhaps  the  shrub  itself,  by  a  second  moving. 
Our  one  serious  handicap  is  the  lack  of  a  pair  of  extra 
hands,  in  this  work  as  in  the  making  of  the  rose  bed, 
for  our  transplanting  has  developed  upon  a  wholesale 
plan.  Barney  does  not  approve  of  our  passion  for  the 
wild ;  besides,  between  potatoes  and  corn  to  hoe,  celery 
seedlings  to  have  their  first  transplanting,  vegetables  to 
pick,  turf  grass  to  mow,  and  edges  to  keep  trim,  with  a 


172  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

horse  and  cow  to  tend  in  addition,  nothing  more  can 
be  expected  of  him. 

I  was  half  dozing,  half  listening,  as  usual,  to  the  various 
little  night  sounds  that  constantly  pique  my  curiosity, 
for  no  matter  how  long  you  may  have  lived  in  the  country 
you  are  not  wholly  in  touch  with  it  until  you  have  slept 
at  least  a  few  nights  in  the  open,  —  when  rain  began  to 
fall  softly,  an  even,  persevering,  growing  rain,  entirely 
different  from  the  lashing  thunder-showers,  and  though 
making  but  half  the  fuss,  was  doubly  penetrating. 
Thinking  how  good  it  was  for  the  ferns,  and  venturing 
remarks  to  Bart  about  them,  which,  however,  fell 
on  sleep-deaf  ears,  I  made  sure  that  the  pup  was  in  his 
chosen  place  by  my  cot  and  drifted  away  to  shadow 
land,  glad  that  something  more  substantial  than  boughs 
covered  me ! 

I  do  not  know  how  long  it  was  before  I  wakened,  but 
the  first  sound  that  formulated  itself  was  the  baying 
of  Dave,  the  hound,  from  the  well-house  porch,  where 
he  slept  when  his  evening  rambles  kept  him  out  until 
after  Amos  Opie  had  gone  to  bed.  Having  freed  his 
mind,  Dave  presently  stopped,  but  other  nearer-by 
sounds  made  me  again  on  the  alert. 

The  rain,  that  was  falling  with  increasing  power,  held 
one  key ;  the  drip  from  the  eaves  and  the  irregular  gush 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  173 

from  a  broken  waterspout  played  separate  tunes.  I  am 
well  used  to  the  night-time  bravado  of  mice,  who  fight 
duels  and  sometimes  pull  shoes  about,  of  the  pranks 
of  squirrels  and  other  little  wood  beasts  about  the  floor, 
but  the  noise  that  made  me  sit  up  in  the  cot  and  reach 
over  until  I  could  clutch  Bart  by  the  arm  belonged  to 
neither  of  these.  There  was  a  swishing  sound,  as  of 
water  being  wrung  from  something  and  dropping  on 
the  floor,  and  then  a  human  exclamation,  blended  of  a 
sigh,  a  wheeze,  and  a  cough,  at  which  the  pup  wakened 
with  a  growl  entirely  out  of  proportion  to  his  age  and 
inexperience. 

"I  wonder,  now,  is  that  a  dog  or  only  uts  growl  ter  sind 
me  back  in  the  wet  fer  luv  av  the  laugh  at  me  ?"  chirped 
a  voice  as  hoarse  as  a  buttery  brogue  would  allow  it 
to  be. 

My  clutch  had  brought  Bart  to  himself  instantly, 
and  at  the  words  he  turned  the  electric  flashlight, 
that  lodged  under  his  pillow,  full  in  the  direction  of 
the  sound,  where  it  developed  a  strange  picture  and 
printed  it  clearly  on  the  opposite  wall. 

In  the  middle  of  the  circle  of  light  was  a  little  barefoot 
man,  in  trousers  and  shirt ;  a  pair  of  sodden  shoes  lay 
at  different  angles  where  they  had  been  kicked  off, 
probably  making  the  sound  that  had  wakened  me,  and  at 


174  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

the  moment  of  the  flash  he  was  occupied  in  the  wringing 
out  of  a  coat  that  seemed  strangely  long  for  the  short 
frame  upon  which  it  had  hung.  The  face  turned  tow- 
ard us  was  unmistakably  Irish,  comical  even,  entirely 
unalarming,  and  with  the  expression,  blended  of  terror 
and  doubt,  that  it  now  wore,  he  might  have  slipped  from 
the  pages  of  a  volume  of  Lever  that  lay  face  down  on 
the  table.  The  nose  turned  up  at  the  tip,  as  if  asking 
questions  of  the  eyes,  that  hid  themselves  between  the 
half-shut  lids  in  order  to  avoid  answering.  The  skin 
was  tanned,  and  yet  you  had  a  certain  conviction  that 
minus  the  tan  the  man  would  be  very  pale,  while  the 
iron-gray  hair  that  topped  the  head  crept  down  to  form 
small  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  an  Old  Country 
throat  thatch  that  was  barely  half  an  inch  long. 

Bart  touched  me  to  caution  silence,  and  I,  seeing  at 
once  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  waited  develop- 
ments. 

As  soon  as  he  could  keep  his  eyes  open  against  the 
sudden  glare,  the  little  man  tried  to  grasp  the  column 
of  light  in  his  ringers,  then  darted  out  of  it,  and  I 
thought  he  had  bolted  from  the  barn ;  but  no,  he  was  in- 
stantly back  again,  and  dilapidated  as  he  was,  he  did  not 
look  like  a  professional  tramp. 

"  No,  yez  don't  fool  Larry  McManus  agin  !  Yez  are  a 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  175 

mane,  cold  light  with  all  yer  blinkin',  and  no  fire  beneath 
to  give  'im  the  good  uv  a  cup  o'  tay  or  put  a  warm  heart 
in  'im !  Two  nights  agone  'twas  suspicion  o'  rats  kep' 
me  from  shlapin',  yesternight  'twas  thought  o'  what  wud 
become  of  poor  Oireland  (Mary  rest  her)  had  we 
schnakes  there  ter  fill  the  drames  o'  nights  loike  they 
do  here  whin  a  man's  a  drap  o'er  full  o'  comfort.  'Tis 
a  good  roof  above !  Heth,  thin,  had  I  a  whisp  o'  straw 
and  a  bite,  wid  this  moonlight  fer  company,  I'd  not  shog 
from  out  this  the  night  to  be  King ! 

"Saints!  but  there's  a  dog  beyant  the  bark!"  he 
cried  a  minute  after,  as  the  pup  crept  over  to  him  and 
began  to  be  friendly,  —  "I  wonder  is  a  mon  sinsible 
to  go  to  trustin'  the  loight  o'  any  moon  that  shines  full 
on  a  pitch-black  noight  whin  'tis  rainin'  ?  Och  hone ! 
but  me  stomach's  that  empty,  gin  I  don't  put  on  me 
shoes  me  lungs'll  lake  trou  the  soles  o'  me  fate,  and  gin 
I  do,  me  shoes  they're  that  sopped,  I'll  cough  them  up — 
o-whurra-r-a !  whurra-a !  but  will  I  iver  see  Old  Oire- 
land agin,  —  I  don't  know !" 

Bart  shut  off  the  light,  slipped  on  his  shoes,  and  draw- 
ing a  coat  over  his  pajamas  lighted  the  oil  stable  lan- 
tern, hung  it  with  its  back  toward  me,  on  a  long  hook 
that  reached  down  from  one  of  the  rafters,  and  bore 
down  upon  Larry,  whose  face  was  instantly  wreathed 


176  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

in  puckered  smiles  at  the  sight  of  a  fellow-human 
who,  though  big,  evidently  had  no  intention  of  being 
aggressive. 

"Well,  Larry  McManus,"  said  Bart,  cheerfully, 
"how  came  you  in  this  barn  so  far  away  from  Oireland 
a  night  like  this?" 

"Seem'  as  yer  another  gintleman  o'  the  road  in  the 
same  ploice,  what  more  loike  than  the  misfortune's  the 
same?"  replied  he,  lengthening  his  lower  lip  and 
stretching  his  stubby  chin,  which  he  scratched  cau- 
tiously. Then,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Bart's,  he 
evidently  read  something  in  his  general  air,  touselled 
and  tanned  as  he  was,  that  shifted  his  opinion  at  least 
one  notch. 

"Maybe,  sor,  you're  an  actor  mon,  sor,  that  didn't 
suit  the  folks  in  the  townbeyant,  sor,  but  I'd  take  it  as 
praise,  so  I  would,  for  shure  they're  but  pigs  there,  — 
I  couldn't  stop  wid  thim  meself !  Thin  agin,  mayhap 
yer  jest  a  plain  gintleman,  a  bit  belated,  as  it  were, 
— a  little  belated  on  the  way  home,  sor,  —  loike  me,  sor, 
that  wus  moinded  to  be  in  Kildare,  sor,  come  May-day, 
and  blessed  Peter's  day's  nigh  come  about  an'  I'm 
here  yit!" 

"You  are  getting  on  the  right  scent,  Larry,"  said  Bart, 
struggling  with  laughter,  and  yet,  as  he  said  after,  not 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  177 

wishing  possibly  to  huff  this  curious  person.  "I  hope 
I'm  a  gentleman,  but  I'm  not  tramping  about ;  this  is 
my  barn,  in  which  my  wife  and  I  are  sleeping,  so  if  I 
were  you,  I  wouldn't  take  off  that  shirt  until  I  can  find 
you  a  dry  one!" 

The  change  that  came  over  the  man  was  comical. 
In  a  lightning  flash  he  had  fastened  the  few  buttons 
in  his  blouse  that  it  had  taken  his  fumbling  fingers 
several  moments  to  unloose,  and  dropping  one  hand  to 
his  side,  he  held  it  there  rigid  as  he  saluted  with  two 
fingers  at  the  brim  of  an  imaginary  hat ;  while  his  roving 
eye  quickly  took  in  the  various  motley  articles  of  fur- 
niture of  our  camp,  —  a  small  kitchen  table  with  oil- 
stove  and  tea  outfit  of  plain  white  ware,  some  plates  and 
bowls,  a  few  saucepans,  half  a  dozen  chairs,  no  two 
alike,  and  the  two  cots  huddled  in  the  shadows,  —  his 
voice,  that  had  been  pitched  in  a  confidential  key,  arose 
to  a  wail :  — 

"The  Saints  luv  yer  honor, but  do  they  be  afther  havin' 
bad  landlords  in  Meriky  too,  that  evicted  yer  honor  from 
yer  house,  sor  ?  I  thought  here  nigh  every  poor  body 
owned  their  own  bit,  ground  and  roof,  sor,  let  alone  a  foine 
man  loike  yerself  that  shows  the  breedin'  down  to  his 
tin  toes,  sor.  Oi  feel  fer  yer  honor,  fer  there  wuz  I 
meself  set  out  wid  pig  and  cow  both,  sor  (for  thim  bein' 


178  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

given  Kathy  by  her  aunt  fer  her  fortin  could  not  be  took), 
six  years  ago  Patrick's  tide,  sor,  and  hadn't  she  married 
Mulqueen  that  same  week,  sor  (he  bein'  gardener  a  long 
time  to  his  Riverence  over  in  England,  sor,  and  meetin' 
Kathy  only  at  his  mother's  wakin'),  I'd  maybe  been 
lodged  in  a  barn  meself,  sor !  Sure,  hev  ye  the  cow 
below  ud  let  me  down  a  drap  o'  milk?" 

Then  did  Bart  laugh  long  and  heartily,  for  this  new 
point  of  view  in  regard  to  our  doings  amused  him  im- 
mensely. Of  all  the  local  motives  attributed  to  our 
garden  vacation,  none  had  been  quite  so  naive  and 
unexpected  as  this ! 

"But  we  haven't  been  evicted,"  said  Bart,  uncon- 
sciously beginning  to  apologize  to  an  unknown  straggler. 
"I  own  this  place  and  my  home  is  yonder;  we  are 
camping  here  for  our  health  and  pleasure.  Come, 
it's  time  you  gave  an  account  of  yourself,  as  you  are  tres- 
passing." That  the  situation  suddenly  began  to  annoy 
Bart  was  plain. 

Ignoring  the  tail  of  the  speech,  Larry  saluted  anew : 
"Sure,  sor,  I  knew  ye  at  first  fer  gintleman  and  leddy, 
which  this  same  last  proves ;  a  rale  gintleman  and  his 
leddy  can  cut  about  doin'  the  loikes  of  which  poor  folks 
ud  be  damned  fer !  I  mind  well  how  Lord  Kilmartin  's 
youngest  —  she  wid  the  wild  red  hair  an'  eyes  that  wud 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  179 

shame  a  doe  —  used  to  go  barefoot  through  the  dew 
down  to  Biddie  Macks's  cabin  to  drink  fresh  buttermilk, 
whin  they  turned  gallons  o'  it  from  their  own  dairy. 
Some  said,  underbreath,  she  was  touched,  and  some  wild 
loike,  but  none  spoke  loud  but  to  wish  her  speed,  fer 
that's  what  it  is  to  be  a  leddy ! 

"Meself,  is  it?  Och,  it's  soon  told.  Six  years  lived 
I  there  wid  Kathy  and  Mulqueen,  workin'  in  the  garden, 
he  keepin'  before  me,  until  one  day  his  Riverence  come 
face  agin  me  thruble.  Oh,  yis,  sor,  that  same,  that  bit 
sup  that's  too  much  for  the  stomick,  sor,  and  so  gets  into 
the  toes  and  tongue,  sor !  Four  times  a  year  the  spell's 
put  on  me,  sor,  and  gin  I  shlape  it  over,  I'm  a  good  man 
in  between,  sor,  but  that  one  time,  sor,  Mulqueen  was  sint 
to  Lunnon,  sor,  and  I  missed  me  shlape  fer  mischief. 

"Well,  thinks  I,  I'll  go  to  Meriky  and  see  me  Johnny, 
me  youngest;  most  loike  they're  more  used  to  the 
shlapin'  spells  out  there  where  all  is  free;  but  they 
wasn't !  Johnny's  a  sheriff  and  got  money  wid  his 
woman,  and  she's  no  place  in  her  house  fit  fer  the  old 
man  resting  the  drap  off.  So  he  gives  me  money 
to  go  home  first  class,  and  says  he'll  sind  another  bit 
along  to  Kathy  fer  me  keepin'. 

"This  was  come  Easter,  and  bad  cess,  one  o'  me 
shlapes  was  due,  and  so  I've  footed  it  to  get  a  job  to 


i8o  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

take  me  back  to  Kathy.  If  I  could  strike  a  port  just 
right,  Hiven  might  get  me  home  between  times  in  a 
cattle  boat. 

"I'm  that  well  risted  now  I  could  do  good  work  if  I 
had  full  feed,  maybe  till  Michaelmas.  Hiven  rest  ye, 
sor,  but  have  ye  ever  a  job  o'  garden  work  now  on  yer 
estate,  sor,  that  would  kape  me  until  I  got  the  bit  to 
cross  to  Kathy?" 

As  Bart  hesitated,  I  burst  forth,  "Have  you  ever 
tended  flowers,  Larry?" 

"  Flowers,  me  leddy  ?  —  that's  what  I  did  fer  his  River- 
ence,  indoors  and  out,  and  dressed  them  fer  the  shows, 
mem,  and  not  few's  the  prize  money  we  took.  His  River- 
ence,  he  called  a  rose  for  Kathy,  that  is  to  say  Kathleen ; 
'twas  that  big  'twould  hide  yer  face.  Flowers,  is  it? 
Well,  I  don't  know!" 

Bart,  meanwhile,  had  made  a  plan,  telling  Larry  that 
he  would  draw  a  cup  of  tea  and  give  him  something  to 
eat,  while  he  thought  the  matter  over.  He  soon  had 
the  poor  fellow  wrapped  in  an  old  blanket  and  snoring 
comfortably  in  the  straw,  while,  as  the  rain  had  stopped 
and  dawn  began  to  show  the  outlines  of  Opal  Farm, 
Bart  suggested  that  I  had  best  go  indoors  and  finish 
my  broken  sleep,  while  he  had  a  chance  to  scrutinize 
Larry  by  daylight  before  committing  himself. 


A  MIDNIGHT  ADVENTURE  181 

When  he  rejoined  me  several  hours  later  for  an  indoor 
breakfast,  for  it  had  turned  to  rain  again  and  promised 
several  days  of  the  saturate  weather  that  makes  even 
a  mountain  camp  utterly  dreary,  he  brought  me  the 
news  that  Larry  was  to  work  for  me  especially,  beginning 
on  the  rose  bed,  —  that  he  would  lodge  with  Amos 
Opie  and  take  his  meals  with  Anastasia,  who  thinks  it 
likely  that  they  are  cousins  on  the  mothers'  side,  as  they 
are  both  of  the  same  parish  and  name.  The  exact 
way  of  our  meeting  with  him  need  not  be  dwelt  upon 
domestically,  for  the  sake  of  discipline,  as  he  will  have 
more  self-respect  among  his  fellows  in  the  combination 
clothes  we  provided,  "until  his  baggage  arrives."  He 
is  to  be  paid  no  money,  and  allowed  to  "  shlape"  if  a 
spell  unhappily  arrives.  When  the  season  is  over,  Bart 
agrees  to  see  him  on  board  ship  with  a  prepaid  passage 
straight  to  Kathy,  and  whatever  else  is  his  due  sent  to 
her !  Meanwhile  he  promised  to  "fit  the  leddy  with  the 
tastiest  garden  off  the  old  sod ! " 

So  here  we  are ! 

This  chronicle  should  have  a  penny-dreadful  title, 
"  Their  Midnight  Adventure,  or  How  it  Rained  a  Rose 
Gardener!"  Tell  me  about  the  ferns  next  time;  we 
have  only  moved  the  glossy  Christmas  and  evergreen- 
crested  wood  ferns  as  yet,  being  sure  of  these. 


182  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

How  about  our  fencing?  Ask  Evan.  You  remember 
that  we  have  a  picket- fence  toward  the  road,  but  on  three 
sides  the  boundary  is  only  a  tumble-down  stone  wall  in 
which  bird  cherries  have  here  and  there  found  footing. 
We  have  a  chance  to  sell  the  stones,  and  Bart  is  thinking 
of  it,  as  it  will  be  too  costly  to  rebuild  on  a  good  founda- 
tion. The  old  wall  was  merely  a  rough-laid  pile. 


IX 

FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 
Hemlock  Hills,  July  3.  For  nearly  a  week  we 
have  been  sauntering  through  this  most  entrancing  hill 
country,  practically  a  pedestrian  trip,  except  that  the 
feet  that  have  taken  the  steps  have  been  shod  with  steel 
instead  of  leather.  Your  last  chronicle  has  followed 
me,  and  was  read  in  a  region  so  pervaded  by  ferns  that 
your  questions  concerning  their  transplanting  would 
have  answered  themselves  if  you  could  have  only  perched 
on  the  rock  beside  me.  There  is  a  fern-lined  ravine  be- 
low, a  fern-bordered  road  in  front ;  and  above  a  log  cot- 
tage, set  in  a  clearing  in  the  hemlocks  which  has  for  its 
boundaries  the  tumble-down  fence  piled  by  the  settlers 
a  century  or  two  ago,  its  crevices  now  filled  by  leaf- 
mould,  has  become  'at  once  a  natural  fernery  and  a 
barrier.  Why  do  you  not  use  your  old  wall  in  a  like 
manner?  Of  course  your  stones  may  be  too  closely 
piled  and  lack  the  time-gathered  leaf-mould,  but  a  little 
discretion  in  removing  or  tipping  a  stone  here  and 
183 


184  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

there,  and  a  crowbar  for  making  pockets,  would  work 
wonders.  You  might  even  exchange  the  surplus  rocks 
for  leaf-mould,  load  by  load ;  at  any  rate  large  quantities 
of  fern  soil  must  be  obtainable  for  the  carting  at  the 
reservoir  woods. 

Imagine  the  effect,  if  you  please,  of  that  irregular 
line  of  rocks  swathed  in  vines  and  sheltering  great  clumps 
of  ferns,  while  it  will  afford  an  endless  shelter  for  every 
sort  of  wild  thing  that  you  may  pick  up  in  your  rambles. 
Of  course  you  need  not  plant  it  all  at  once,  but  having 
made  the  plan,  develop  it  at  leisure. 

You  should  never  quite  finish  a  country  place  unless 
you  expect  to  leave  it.  The  something  more  in  garden 
life  is  the  bale  of  hay  before  the  horse's  nose  on  the  up- 
hill road.  Last  year,  for  almost  a  week,  we  thought 
our  garden  quite  as  finished  as  the  material  and  sur- 
roundings would  allow, — it  was  a  strange,  dismal,  hollow 
sort  of  feeling.  However,  it  was  soon  displaced  by  the 
desire  that  I  have  to  collect  my  best  roses  in  one  spot, 
add  to  them,  and  gradually  form  a  rosary  where  the 
Garden  Queen  and  all  her  family  may  have  the  best  of 
air,  food,  and  lodgings.  You  see  I  feared  that  the  knoll, 
hardy  beds,  and  rose  garden  were  not  sufficient  food  for 
your  mind  to  ruminate,  so  I  add  the  fern  fence  as  a  sort 
of  dessert ! 


'AN  ENDLESS   SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  SORT  OF  WILD  THING." 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     185 

"Where  is  the  shade  that  ferns  need?"  I  hear  you 
ask,  "for  except  under  some  old  apple  trees  and  where 
the  bird  cherries  grow  (and  they,  though  beautiful  at 
blooming  time  and  leaf  fall,  attract  tent  caterpillars), 
the  stone  wall  lies  in  the  sun!" 

Yes,  but  in  one  of  the  woodland  homes  of  this  region 
I  have  seen  a  screen  placed  by  such  a  rustic  stone  fence 
that  it  not  only  served  the  purpose  of  giving  light  shade, 
but  was  a  thing  of  beauty  in  itself,  dividing  the  vista 
into  many  landscapes,  the  frame  being  long  or  upright 
according  to  the  planter's  fancy. 

Do  you  remember  the  old  saying  "When  away  keep 
open  thine  eyes,  and  so  pack  thy  trunk  for  the  home- 
going?" 

On  this  drive  of  ours  I've  been  cramming  my  trunk 
to  overflowing,  and  yet  the  ideas  are  often  the  simplest 
possible,  for  the  people  of  this  region,  with  more  inven- 
tive art  than  money,  have  the  perfect  gift  of  adapting 
that  which  lies  nearest  to  hand. 

You  spoke  in  your  last  chronicle  of  the  screen  of  white 
birches  through  which  you  saw  the  sun  rise  over  the 
meadows  of  Opal  Farm.  This  birch  springs  up  in  waste 
lands  almost  everywhere.  We  have  it  in  abundance 
in  the  wood  lot  on  the  side  of  our  hill,  and  it  is  scattered 
through  the  wet  woods  below  our  wild  walk,  showing 
that  all  it  needs  is  a  foothold. 


i86  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Because  it  is  common  and  the  wood  rather  weak  and 
soft,  landscape  gardening  has  rather  passed  it  by, 
turning  a  cold  shoulder,  yet  the  slender  tree  is  very 
beautiful.  True,  it  has  not  the  length  of  life,  the  girth 
and  strength  of  limb,  of  the  silver-barked  canoe  birch, 
but  the  white  birch  will  grow  in  a  climate  that  fevers 
its  northern  cousin.  In  spite  of  its  delicate  qualities, 
it  is  not  a  trivial  tree,  for  I  have  seen  it  with  a  bole  of 
more  than  forty  feet  in  length,  measuring  eighteen 
inches  through  at  the  ground.  When  you  set  it,  you 
are  not  planting  for  posterity,  perhaps,  but  will  gain  a 
speedy  result ;  and  the  fertility  of  the  tree,  when  once 
established,  will  take  care  of  the  future. 

What  is  more  charming  after  a  summer  shower  than 
a  natural  cluster  of  these  picturesque  birches,  as  they 
often  chance  to  group  themselves  in  threes,  like  the 
Graces  —  the  soft  white  of  the  trunks,  with  dark  hiero- 
glyphic shadows  here  and  there  disappearing  in  a  drap- 
ery of  glossy  leaves,  green  above  and  reflecting  the  bark 
colour  underneath,  all  a-quiver  and  more  like  live  things 
poised  upon  the  russet  twigs  than  delicate  pointed  leaves ! 
Then,  when  the  autumn  comes,  how  they  stand  out  in 
company  with  cedar  bushes  and  sheep  laurel  on  the  hill- 
sides to  make  beautiful  the  winter  garden,  and  we  stand 
in  mute  admiration  when  these  white  birches  reach  from 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     187 

a  snowbank  and  pencil  their  frosty  tracery  against  a  wall 
of  hemlocks. 

This  is  the  simple  material  that  has  been  used  with 
such  wonderful  effect.  In  the  gardens  hereabout  they 
have  flanked  their  alleys  with  the  birches,  for  even  when 
fully  grown  their  habit  is  more  poplar-like  than  spread- 
ing, and  many  plants,  like  lilies,  requiring  partial  shade 
flourish  under  them ;  while  for  fences  and  screens  the 
trees  are  planted  in  small  groups,  with  either  stones  and 
ferns,  or  shrubs  set  thick  between,  and  the  most  beauti- 
ful winter  fence  that  Evan  says  he  has  ever  seen  in  all  his 
wanderings  amid  costly  beauty  was  when,  last  winter,  in 
being  here  to  measure  for  some  plans,  he  came  sud- 
denly upon  an  informal  boundary  and  screen  combined, 
over  fifty  feet  in  length,  made  of  white  birches,  —  the 
groups  of  twos  and  threes  set  eight  or  ten  feet  apart,  the 
gaps  being  filled  by  Japanese  barberries  laden  with  their 
scarlet  fruit.  Even  now  this  same  screen  is  beautiful 
enough  with  its  shaded  greens,  while  the  barberries 
in  their  blooming  time,  and  the  crimson  leaf  glow  of 
autumn,  give  it  four  distinct  seasons. 

The  branches  of  the  white  birch  being  small  and 
thickly  set,  they  may  be  trimmed  at  will,  and  windows 
thus  opened  here  and  there  without  the  look  of  artifice 
or  stiffness. 


i88  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Fences  are  always  a  moot  question  to  the  gardener, 
for  if  she  has  a  pleasant  neighbour,  she  does  not  like  to 
raise  an  aggressive  barrier  or  perhaps  cut  off  the  view, 
yet  to  a  certain  extent  I  like  being  walled  in  at  least  on 
two  sides.  A  total  lack  of  boundaries  is  too  impersonal, 
—  the  eye  travels  on  and  on ;  there  is  nothing  to  rest  it 
by  comparison.  Also,  where  there  are  no  fences  or 
hedges, — and  what  are  hedges  but  living  fences, — there  is 
nothing  to  break  the  ground  draught  in  winter  and  early 
springtime.  The  ocean  is  much  more  beautiful  and 
full  of  meaning  when  brought  in  contact  with  a 
slender  bit  of  coast.  The  moon  has  far  more  majesty 
when  but  distancing  the  tree-tops  than  when  rolling 
apparently  at  random  through  an  empty  sky.  A  vast 
estate  may  well  boast  of  wide  sweeps  and  open  places, 
but  the  same  effect  is  not  gamed,  present  fashion  to  the 
contrary,  by  throwing  down  the  barriers  between  a  dozen 
homes  occupying  only  half  as  many  acres.  Preferable 
is  the  cosey  English  walled  villa  of  the  middle  class,  even 
though  it  be  a  bit  stuffy  and  suggestive  of  earwigs. 
The  question  should  not  be  to  fence  or  not  to  fence,  but 
rather  how  to  fence  usefully  and  artistically,  and  any  one 
who  has  an  old  stone  wall,  such  as  you  have,  moss  grown 
and  tumble-down,  with  the  beginnings  of  wildness  al- 
ready achieved,  has  no  excuse  for  failure.  We  have 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES    189 

seen  other  fences  here  where  bushes,  wire,  and  vines 
all  take  part,  but  they  cannot  compete  with  an  old  wall. 

With  ferns,  a  topic  opens  as  long  and  broad  and  deep 
as  the  glen  below  us,  and  of  almost  as  uncertain  climb- 
ing, for  it  is  not  so  much  what  ferns  may  be  dug  up  and, 
as  individual  plants,  continue  to  grow  in  new  surround- 
ings, but  how  much  of  their  haunt  may  be  transplanted 
with  them,  that  the  fern  may  keep  its  characteristics. 
Many  people  do  not  think  of  this,  nor  would  they  care 
if  reminded.  Water  lilies,  floating  among  their  pads 
in  the  still  margin  of  a  stream,  with  jewelled  dragon- 
flies  darting  over,  soft  clouds  above  and  the  odour  of 
wild  grapes  or  swamp  azalea  wafting  from  the  banks, 
are  no  more  to  them  than  half  a  dozen  such  lilies  grown 
in  a  sunken  tub  or  whitewashed  basin  in  a  backyard ; 
rather  are  they  less  desirable  because  less  easily  con- 
trolled and  encompassed.  Such  people,  and  they  are 
not  a  few,  belong  to  the  tribe  of  Peter  Bell,  who  saw  noth- 
ing more  in  the  primrose  by  the  river's  brim  than  that  it 
was  a  primrose,  and  consequently  yellow.  Doubtless 
it  would  have  looked  precisely  the  same  to  him,  or  even 
more  yellow,  if  it  had  bloomed  in  a  tin  can  ! 

We  do  not  treat  our  native  ferns  with  sufficient  respect. 
Homage  is  paid  in  literature  to  the  palm,  and  it  is  an, 
emblem  of  honour,  but  our  New  England  ferns,  many 


190  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  them  equally  majestic,  are  tossed  into  heaps  for  hay 
and  mown  down  by  the  ruthless  scythe  of  the  fanner 
every  autumn  when  he  shows  his  greatest  agricultural 
energy  by  stripping  the  waysides  of  their  beauty  prior 
to  the  coming  of  the  roadmender  with  his  awful  "turn- 
piking"  process.  If,  by  the  way,  the  automobilists  suc- 
ceed in  stopping  this  piking  practice,  we  will  print  a  nice 
little  prayer  for  them  and  send  it  to  Saint  Peter,  so  that, 
though  it  won't  help  them  in  this  world,  —  that  would 
be  dangerous,  —  it  will  by  and  by ! 

In  the  woods  the  farmer  allows  the  ferns  to  stand,  for 
are  they  not  one  of  the  usual  attributes  of  a  picnic? 
Stuck  in  the  horses'  bridle,  they  keep  off  flies;  they 
serve  to  deck  the  tablecloth  upon  which  the  food  is 
spread ;  gathered  in  armfuls,  they  somewhat  ease  the  con- 
tact of  the  rheumatic  with  the  rocks,  upon  which  they 
must  often  sit  on  such  occasions.  They  provide  the 
young  folks  with  a  motive  to  seek  something  further  in 
the  woods,  and  give  the  acquisitive  ladies  who  "press 
things"  much  loot  to  take  home,  and  all  without  cost. 

This  may  not  be  respectful  treatment,  but  it  is  not 
martyrdom ;  the  fern  is  a  generous  plant,  a  thing  of  wiry 
root-stock  and  prehistoric  tenacity ;  it  has  not  forgotten 
that  tree  ferns  are  among  its  ancestors ;  when  it  is  dis- 
couraged, it  rests  and  grows  again.  But  imagine  the 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     191 

feelings  of  a  mat  of  exquisite  maidenhair  rent  from  a 
shady  slope  with  moss  and  partridge  vine  at  its  feet,  and 
quivering  elusive  woodland  shade  above,  on  finding  itself 
unceremoniously  crowded  into  a  bed,  between  cannas  or 
red  geraniums !  Or  fancy  the  despair  of  either  of  the 
wide- spreading  Osmundas,  lovers  of  stream  borders 
opulent  with  leaf-mould,  or  wood  hollows  deep  with 
moist  richness,  on  finding  themselves  ranged  in  a  row 
about  the  porch  of  a  summer  cottage,  each  one  tied  firmly 
to  a  stake  like  so  many  green  parasols  stuck  in  the  dry 
loam  point  downward ! 

It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  how  many  species  of 
native  ferns  can  be  domesticated,  for  given  sufficient 
time  and  patience  all  things  are  possible,  but  how  many 
varieties  are  either  decorative,  interesting,  or  useful 
away  from  their  native  haunts.  For  any  one  taking 
what  may  be  called  a  botanical  interest  in  ferns,  a  semi- 
artificial  rockery,  with  one  end  in  wet  ground  and  the 
other  reaching  dry-wood  conditions,  is  extremely  inter- 
esting. In  such  a  place,  by  obtaining  some  of  the  earth 
with  each  specimen  and  tagging  it  carefully,  an  out-of- 
door  herbarium  may  be  formed  and  something  added 
to  it  every  time  an  excursion  is  made  into  a  new  region. 
Otherwise  the  ferns  that  are  worth  the  trouble  of  trans- 
planting and  supplying  with  soil  akin  to  that  from  which 


i92  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

they  came,  are  comparatively  few.  Of  decorative 
species  the  Osmundas  easily  lead;  being  natives  of 
swampy  or  at  least  moist  ground,  they  should  have  a 
like  situation,  and  yet  so  strong  are  their  roots  and  crown 
of  leaves  that  they  will  flourish  for  years  after  the 
moisture  that  has  fed  them  has  been  drained  and  the 
shading  overgrowth  cut  away,  even  though  dwarfed 
in  growth  and  coarsened  in  texture.  Thus  people  seeing 
them  growing  under  these  conditions  in  open  fields  and 
roadside  banks  mistake  their  necessities. 

The  Royal  fern  (Osmunda  regalis}  positively  demands 
moisture;  it  will  waive  the  matter  of  shade  in  a  great 
degree,  but  water  it  must  have. 

The  Cinnamon  fern,  that  encloses  the  spongelike, 
brown,  fertile  fronds  in  the  circle  of  green  ones,  gains  its 
greatest  size  of  five  feet  in  roadside  runnels  or  in 
springy  places  between  boulders  in  the  river  woods ;  yet 
so  accommodating  is  it  that  you  can  use  it  at  the  base  of 
your  knoll  if  a  convenient  rock  promises  both  reasonable 
dampness  and  shelter. 

The  third  of  the  family  (Osmunda  Claytonia)  is  known 
as  the  Interrupted  fern,  because  in  May  the  fertile  black 
leaflets  appear  in  the  middle  of  the  fronds  and  inter- 
rupt the  even  greenness.  This  fern  will  thrive  in  merely 
moist  soil  and  is  very  charming  early  in  the  season,  but 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     193 

like  the  other  two,  out  of  its  haunts,  cannot  be  relied 
upon  after  August. 

As  a  fern  for  deep  soil,  where  walking  room  can  be 
allowed  it,  the  common  brake,  or  bracken  (Pteris  aqui- 
lina)  is  unsurpassed.  It  will  grow  either  in  sandy 
woods  or  moist,  and  should  have  a  certain  amount  of 
high  shade,  else  its  broad  fronds,  held  high  above  the 
ground  umbrella- wise,  will  curl,  grow  coarse,  and  lose 
the  fernlike  quality  altogether.  You  can  plant  this 
safely  in  the  bit  of  old  orchard  that  you  are  giving  over 
to  wild  asters,  black-eyed  Susan,  and  sundrops,  but 
mind  you,  be  sure  to  take  both  Larry  and  Barney, 
together  with  a  long  post-hole  spade,  when  you  go  out 
to  dig  brakes,  —  they  are  not  things  of  shallow  super- 
ficial roots,  I  can  assure  you. 

A  few  years  ago  Evan,  Timothy  Saunders,  and  I  went 
brake-hunting,  I  selecting  the  groups  and  the  menkind 
digging  great  solid  turfs  a  foot  or  more  in  depth,  in 
order  to  be  sure  the  things  had  native  earth  enough  along 
to  mother  them  into  comfortable  growth.  Proudly 
we  loaded  the  big  box  wagon,  for  we  had  taken  so  much 
black  peat  (as  the  soil  happened  to  be)  that  not  a  root 
hung  below  and  success  was  certain. 

When,  on  reaching  home,  in  unloading,  one  turf  fell 
from  the  cart  and  crumbled  into  fragments,  to  my 


i94  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

dismay  I  found  that  the  long,  tough  stalk  ran  quite 
through  the  clod  and  we  had  no  roots  at  all,  but  that 
(if  inanimate  things  can  laugh)  they  were  all  laughing 
at  us  back  in  the  meadow  and  probably  another  foot 
underground.  Yet  brakes  are  well  worth  the  trouble 
of  deep  digging,  for  if  once  established,  a  waste  bit, 
where  little  else  will  flourish,  is  given  a  graceful  under- 
growth that  is  able  to  stand  erect  even  though  the  breeze 
plays  with  the  little  forest  as  it  does  with  a  field  of  grain. 
Then,  too,  the  brake  patch  is  a  treasury  to  be  drawn 
from  when  arranging  tall  flowers  like  foxgloves,  lark- 
spurs, hollyhocks,  and  others  that  have  little  foliage  of 
their  own. 

The  fact  that  the  brake  does  not  mature  its  seeds  that 
lie  under  the  leaf  margin  until  late  summer  also  insures 
it  a  long  season  of  sightliness,  and  when  ripeness 
finally  draws  nigh,  it  comes  in  a  series  of  beautiful 
mellow  shades,  varying  from  straw  through  deep  gold 
to  russet,  such  as  the  beech  tree  chooses  for  its  autumn 
cloak. 

Another  plant  there  is,  a  low-growing  shrub,  having 
long  leaves  with  scalloped  edges,  giving  a  spicy  odour 
when  crushed  or  after  rain,  that  I  must  beg  you  to 
plant  with  these  brakes.  It  is  called  Sweet-fern,  merely 
by  courtesy,  from  its  fernlike  appearance,  for  it  is  of 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     195 

the  bayberry  family  and  first  cousin  to  sweet  gale  and 
waxberry. 

The  digging  of  this  also  is  a  process  quite  as  elusive 
as  mining  for  brakes;  but  when  once  it  sets  foot  in 
your  orchard,  and  it  will  enjoy  the  drier  places,  you 
will  have  a  liberal  annex  to  your  bed  of  sweet  odours, 
and  it  may  worthily  join  lemon  balm,  mignonette, 
southernwood,  and  lavender  in  the  house,  though  in 
the  garden  it  would  be  rather  too  pushing  a  com- 
panion. 

Next,  both  decorative  and  useful,  comes  the  Silvery 
Spleen  wort,  that  is  content  with  shade  and  good  soil  of 
any  sort,  so  long  as  it  is  not  rank  with  manure.  It  has 
a  slender  creeping  root,  but  when  it  once  takes  hold,  it 
flourishes  mightily  and  after  a  year  or  so  will  wave 
silver-lined  fronds  three  feet  long  proudly  before  you,  a 
rival  of  Osmunda ! 

A  sister  spleenwort  is  the  beautiful  Lady  fern,  whose 
lacelike  fronds  have  party-coloured  stems,  varying 
from  straw  through  pink  and  reddish  to  brown,  giving 
an  unusual  touch  of  life  and  warmth  to  one  of  the  cool 
green  fern  tribe.  In  autumn  the  entire  leaf  of  this  fern, 
in  dying,  oftentimes  takes  these  same  hues ;  it  is  decora- 
tive when  growing  and  useful  to  blend  with  cut  flowers. 
It  naturally  prefers  woods,  but  will  settle  down  comfort- 


196  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

ably  in  the  angle  of  a  house  or  under  a  fence,  and  will 
be  a  standby  in  your  wall  rockery. 

The  ferns  that  seem  really  to  prefer  the  open,  one 
taking  to  dry  and  two  to  moist  ground,  are  the  hay- 
scented  fern  (Dicksonia  punctilobula) ,  the  New 
York  fern  (Dryopteris  Noveboracencis),  and  the  Marsh 
Shield-fern.  Dicksonia  has  a  pretty  leaf  of  fretwork, 
and  will  grow  three  feet  in  length,  though  it  is  usually 
much  shorter.  It  is  the  fern  universal  here  with  us, 
it  makes  great  swales  running  out  from  wood  edges  to 
pastures,  and  it  rivals  the  bayberry  in  covering  hillsides ; 
it  will  grow  in  dense  beds  under  tall  laurels  or  rhododen- 
drons, border  your  wild  walk,  or  make  a  setting  of  cheer- 
ful light  green  to  the  stone  wall ;  while  if  cut  for  house 
decoration,  it  keeps  in  condition  for  several  days  and 
almost  rivals  the  Maidenhair  as  a  combination  with 
sweet  peas  or  roses. 

The  New  York  fern,  when  of  low  stature,  is  one  of  the 
many  bits  of  growing  carpet  of  rich  cool  woods.  If  it 
is  grown  in  deep  shade,  the  leaves  become  too  long  and 
spindling  for  beauty.  When  in  moist  ground,  quite  in 
the  open,  or  in  reflected  shade,  the  fresh  young  leaves 
of  a  foot  and  under  add  great  variety  to  the  grass  and  are 
a  perfect  setting  for  table  decorations  of  small  flowers. 
We  have  these  ferns  all  through  the  dell.  If  they  are 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     197 

mown  down  in  June,  July  sees  a  fresh  crop,  and  their 
spring  green  is  held  perpetual  until  frost. 

The  Marsh  Shield-fern  of  gentian  meadows  is  the  per- 
fect small  fern  for  a  bit  of  wet  ground,  and  is  the  green 
to  be  used  with  all  wild  flowers  of  like  places.  One  day 
last  autumn  I  had  a  bouquet  of  grass-of-Parnassus, 
ladies'  tresses,  and  gentian  massed  thickly  with  these 
ferns,  and  the  posey  lived  for  days  on  the  sunny 
window  shelf  of  the  den  (for  gentians  close  their  eyes 
in  shade), — a  bit  of  the  September  marshland 
brought  indoors. 

The  tovo  Beech- ferns,  the  long  and  the  broad,  you  may 
grow  on  the  knoll;  give  the  long  the  dampest  spots, 
and  place  the  broad  where  it  is  quite  dry.  As  the  root- 
stocks  of  both  these  are  somewhat  frail,  I  would  advise 
you  to  peg  them  down  with  hairpins  and  cover  well  with 
earth.  By  the  way,  I  always  use  wire  hairpins  to  hold 
down  creeping  rootstocks  of  every  kind ;  it  keeps  them 
from  springing  up  and  drying  before  the  rootlets  have 
a  chance  to  grasp  the  soil. 

The  roots  of  Maidenhair  should  always  be  treated  in 
this  way,  as  they  dry  out  very  quickly.  This  most 
distinctive  of  our  New  England  ferns  will  grow  between 
the  rocks  of  your  knoll,  as  well  as  in  deep  nooks  in  the 
fence.  It  seems  to  love  rich  side-hill  woods  and  craves 


198  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

a  rock  behind  its  back,  and  if  you  are  only  careful  about 
the  soil,  you  can  have  miniature  forests  of  it  with  little 
trouble.  As  for  maidenhair,  all  its  uses  are  beauty ! 

Give  me  a  bouquet  of  perfect  wild  rosebuds  within 
a  deep  fringe  of  maidenhair  to  set  in  a  crystal  jar  where 
I  may  watch  the  deep  pink  petals  unfold  and  show  the 
golden  stars  within;  let  me  breathe  their  first  breath 
of  perfume,  and  you  may  keep  all  the  greenhouse 
orchids  that  are  grown. 

Though  you  can  have  a  variety  of  ferns  in  other  loca- 
tions, those  that  will  thrive  best  on  the  knoll  and  keep 
it  ever  green  and  in  touch  with  laurel  and  hemlock, 
are  but  five, —  the  Christmas  fern,  the  Marginal  Shield- 
fern,  the  common  Rock  Polypody,  the  Ebony  Spleen  wort, 
and  the  Spinulose  Wood-fern.  Of  the  first  pair  it  is 
impossible  to  have  too  many.  The  Christmas  fern, 
with  its  glistening  leaves  of  holly  green,  has  a  stout,  creep- 
ing rootstock,  which  must  be  firmly  secured,  a  few  stones 
being  added  temporarily  to  the  hairpins  to  give  weight. 
The  Evergreen  Wood-fern  and  Ebony  Spleen  wort,  having 
short  rootstocks,  can  be  tucked  into  sufficiently  deep  holes 
between  rocks  or  in  the  hollows  left  by  small  decayed 
stumps,  while  the  transplanting  of  the  Rock  Polypody 
is  an  act  where  luck,  recklessness,  and  a  pinch  of  magic 
must  all  be  combined. 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     199 

You  will  find  vast  mats  of  these  leathery  little  Poly- 
podys  growing  with  rock-selaginella  on  the  great  bould- 
ers of  the  river  woods.  As  these  are  to  be  split  up  for 
masonry,  the  experiment  of  transferring  the  polypody  is 
no  sin,  though  it  savours  somewhat  of  the  process  of 
skin-grafting.  Evan  and  I  have  tried  the  experiment 
successfully,  so  that  it  is  no  fable.  We  had  a  bit  of 
shady  bank  at  home  that  proved  by  the  mosses  that 
grew  on  it  that  it  was  moistened  from  beneath  the 
year  through.  The  protecting  shade  was  of  tall 
hickories,  and  a  rock  ledge  some  twenty  feet  high 
shielded  it  from  the  south  and  east.  We  scraped 
the  moss  from  a  circle  of  about  six  feet  and  loosened 
the  surface  of  the  earth  only,  and  very  carefully. 
Then  we  spread  some  moist  leaf-mould  on  the 
rough  but  flat  surface  of  a  partly  exposed  rock.  Going 
to  a  near-by  bit  of  woods  that  was  being  despoiled,  as  in 
your  valley,  we  chose  two  great  mats  of  polypody  and 
moss  that  had  no  piercing  twigs  to  break  the  fabric, 
and  carefully  peeled  them  from  the  rocks,  as  you  would 
bark  from  a  tree,  the  matted  rootstocks  weaving  all 
together.  Moistening  these  thoroughly,  we  wrapped 
them  in  a  horse  blanket  and  hurried  home.  The  earth 
and  rock  already  prepared  were  sprinkled  with  water 
and  the  fern  fabric  applied  and  gently  but  firmly  pressed 


200  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

down,  that  resting  on  the  earth  being  held  by  the  ever 
useful  hairpin ! 

The  rock  graft  was  more  difficult,  but  after  many 
failures  by  way  of  stones  that  rolled  off,  a  coarse  network 
of  cords  was  put  across  and  fastened  to  whatever  twigs 
or  roots  came  in  the  way.  Naturally  a  period  of  con- 
stant sprinkling  followed,  and  for  that  season  the  rock 
graft  seemed  decidedly  homesick,  but  the  next  spring 
resignation  had  set  in,  and  two  years  later  the  poly- 
podys  had  completely  adopted  the  new  location  and  were 
prepared  to  appropriate  the  whole  of  it. 

So  you  see  that  there  are  comparatively  only  a  few 
ferns,  after  all,  that  are  of  great  value  to  The  Garden, 
You,  and  I,  and  likewise  there  are  but  a  few  rules  for 
their  transplanting,  viz.: — 

Don't  bother  about  the  tops,  for  new  ones  will 
grow,  but  look  to  the  roots,  and  do  not  let  them  be 
exposed  to  the  air  or  become  dry  in  travel.  Examine 
the  quality  of  soil  from  which  you  have  taken  the  ferns, 
and  if  you  have  none  like  it  nearer  home,  take  some 
with  you  for  a  starter !  Never  dig  up  more  on  one 
day  than  you  can  plant  during  the  next,  and  above  all 
remember  that  if  a  fern  is  worth  tramping  the  country- 
side for,  it  is  worth  careful  planting,  and  that  the  moral 
remarks  made  about  the  care  in  setting  out  of  roses 


FERNS,  FENCES,  AND  WHITE  BIRCHES     201 

apply  with  double  force  to  the  handling  of  delicate 
wild  flowers  and  ferns. 

Good  luck  to  your  knoll,  Mary  Penrose,  and  to  your 
fern  fence,  if  that  fancy  pleases  you.  May  the  magic 
of  fern  seed  fill  your  eyes  and  let  you  see  visions,  the 
goodly  things  of  heart's  desire,  when,  all  being  accom- 
plished, you  pause  and  look  at  the  work  of  your  hands. 

"And  nimble  fay  and  pranksome  elf 
Flash  vaguely  past  at  every  turn, 
Or,  weird  and  wee,  sits  Puck  himself, 
With  legs  akimbo,  on  a  fern!" 


FRANKNESS,  —  GARDENING   AND 
OTHERWISE 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 

July  15.  —  Midsummer  Night.  Since  the  month 
came  in,  vacation  time  has  been  suspended,  insomuch 
that  Bart  goes  to  the  office  every  day,  Saturdays  ex- 
cepted;  but  we  have  not  returned  to  our  indoor  bed- 
room. Once  it  seemed  the  definition  of  airy  coolness, 
with  its  three  wide  windows,  white  matting,  and  muslin 
draperies,  but  now  —  I  fully  understand  the  relative 
feelings  of  a  bird  in  a  cage  and  a  bird  in  the  open. 
The  air  blows  through  the  bars  and  the  sun  shines 
through  them,  but  it  is  still  a  cage. 

In  these  warm,  still  nights  we  take  down  the  slat 
screens  that  hang  between  the  hand-hewn  chestnut 
beams  of  the  old  barn,  and  with  the  open  rafters  of  what 
was  a  hay-loft  above  us,  we  look  out  of  the  door-frame 
straight  up  at  the  stars  and  sometimes  drag  our  cots  out 
on  the  wide  bank  that  tops  the  wall,  overlooking  the 
Opal  Farm,  and  sleep  wholly  under  the  sky. 
202 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         203 

These  two  weeks  past  we  have  had  the  Infant  with 
us  at  night,  clad  in  a  light  woollen  monkey-suit  nighty 
with  feet,  her  crib  being,  however,  under  cover.  Her 
open-eyed  wonder  has  been  a  new  phase  of  the  vaca- 
tion. Knowing  no  fear,  she  has  begun  to  develop  a  feel- 
ing of  kinship  with  all  the  small  animals,  not  only  of 
the  barn  but  dwellers  on  Opal  Farm  as  well,  and  when 
she  discovered  a  nest  of  small  mice  in  an  old  tool- box 
under  the  eaves  and  proposed  to  take  them,  in  their 
improvised  house,  to  her  very  own  room  at  the  opposite 
end,  this  "  room  "  being  a  square  marked  around  her  bed 
by  small  flower-pots,  set  upside  down,  I  protested,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  saying  that  mice  were  not  things  to 
handle,  and  besides  they  would  die  without  their  mother. 

The  Infant,  still  clutching  the  box,  looked  at  me  in 
round-eyed  wonder:  "I  had  Dinah  and  the  kittens 
to  play  with  in  the  nursery,  didn't  I,  mother?" 

"Certainly!" 

"And  when  Ann-stasia  brought  them  up  in  her  ap'n, 
Dinah  walked  behind,  didn't  she?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so!" 

"  Ver-r-y  well,  the  mouse  mother  will  walk  behind  too, 
and  I  love  mice  better'n  cats,  for  they  have  nicer  hands ; 
'sides,  mother,  don't  you  know  who  mice  really  and 
truly  are,  and  why  they  have  to  hide  away?  They 


204  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

are  the  horses  that  fairlies  drive,  and  I'm  going  to  have 
these  for  the  fairlies  in  my  village!"  making  a  sweep 
of  her  arm  toward  the  encampment  of  flower-pots; 
"if  you  want  fairlies  to  stay  close  beside  your  bed,  you 
must  give  them  horses  to  drive,  'cause  when  it  gets  cold 
weather  cobwebs  gets  too  sharp  for  them  to  ride  on 
and  there  isn't  always  fireflies  'n  candle  worms  to  show 
'em  the  way,  —  'n  it's  true,  'cause  Larry  says  so!" 
she  added,  probably  seeing  the  look  of  incredulity  on 
my  face. 

"Larry  knows  fairlies  and  they're  really  trulies; 
if  you're  bad  to  them,  you'll  see  the  road  and  it  won't 
be  there,  and  so  you'll  get  into  Hen'sy's  bog !  Larry 
did,  —  and  if  you  make  houses  for  them  like  mine 
(pointing  to  the  flower- pots)  and  give  'em  drinks  of 
milk  and  flower  wine,  they'll  bring  you  lots  of 
childrens !  They  did  to  Larry,  so  I'm  trying  to  please 
'em  wif  my  houses,  so's  to  have  some  to  play  wif !" 

Larry's  harmless  folklore  (for  when  he  is  quite  him- 
self, as  he  is  in  these  days,  he  has  a  certain  refinement 
and  an  endless  fund  of  marvellous  legends  and  stories), 
birds  and  little  beasts  for  friends,  dolls  cut  from  paper 
with  pansies  fastened  on  for  faces,  morning-glories  for 
cups  in  which  to  give  the  fairies  drink,  what  could  make 
a  more  blissful  childhood  for  our  little  maid  ?  That  is 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         205 

the  everlasting  pity  of  a  city  childhood.  Creature  com- 
forts may  be  had  and  human  friends,  but  where  is  the 
vista  that  reaches  under  the  trees  and  through  the  long 
meadow-grass  where  the  red-gold  lily  bells  tinkle,  up 
the  brook  bed  to  the  great  flat  mossy  rock,  beneath 
which  is  the  door  to  fairyland,  the  spotted  turtle  being 
warder.  Fairyland,  the  country  of  eternal  youth  and 
possibility ! 

I  wouldn't  give  up  the  fairies  that  I  once  knew  and 
peopled  the  solemn  woods  with  down  in  grandfather's 
Virginia  home  for  a  fortune,  and  even  now,  any  day, 
I  can  put  my  ear  to  the  earth,  like  Tommy-Anne,  and 
hear  the  grass  grow.  It  occurred  to  me  yesterday  that 
the  Infant,  in  age,  temperament,  and  heredity,  is  suited 
to  be  a  companion  for  your  Richard.  Could  you  not 
bring  him  down  with  you  before  the  summer  is  over? 
Though,  as  the  unlike  sometimes  agree  best,  Ian  and  she 
might  be  more  compatible,  so  bring  them  both  and  we 
will  turn  the  trio  loose  in  the  meadows  of  Opal  Farm 
with  a  mite  of  a  Shetland  pony  that  The  Man  from 
Everywhere  has  recently  bestowed  upon  the  Infant  — 
crazy,  extravagant  man !  What  we  shall  do  with  it  in 
winter  I  do  not  know,  as  we  cannot  yet  run  into  the  ex- 
pense of  keeping  such  live  stock.  But  why  bother? 
it  is  only  midsummer  now,  grazing  is  plentiful  and  seems 


206  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

to  suit  the  needs  of  this  spunky  little  beast,  and  the  In- 
fant riding  him  "across  country,"  as  Bart  calls  her  wan- 
derings about  Opal  Farm,  is  a  spectacle  too  pretty  to 
be  denied  us.  Yes,  I  know  I'm  silly,  and  that  you  have 
the  twins  to  rhapsodize  about,  but  girls  are  so  much 
more  picturesque  in  the  clothes !  What !  thought  she 
wore  gingham  bloomers !  Yes,  but  not  all  the  time,  for 
Maria  will  frill  her  up  and  run  her  with  ribbons  of 
afternoons ! 
******* 

Back  to  the  house  and  garden !  I'm  wandering,  but 
then  I'm  Lady  Lazy  this  summer,  as  The  Man  from 
Everywhere  calls  me,  and  naturally  a  bit  inconsequent ! 
As  I  said,  Bart  is  at  the  office  daily,  and  will  be  for 
another  week,  but  Lady  Lazy  has  not  returned  to  what 
Maria  Maxwell  calls  "The  Tyranny  of  the  Three 
M's,"  —  the  mending  basket,  the  market  book,  and  the 
money-box !  I  was  willing,  quite  willing ;  in  fact  it  is 
only  fair  that  Maria  should  have  her  time  of  irresponsi- 
bility, for  I  know  that  she  has  half  a  dozen  invitations 
to  go  to  pleasant  places  and  meet  people,  one  being  from 
Lavinia  Cortright  to  visit  her  shore  cottage.  I'm  always 
hoping  that  Maria  may  meet  the  "right  man"  some 
summer  day,  but  that  she  surely  will  never  do  if  she  stays 
here. 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         207 

"I've  everything  systematized,  and  it's  easier  for  me 
to  go  on  than  drop  the  needles  for  a  fortnight  or  so  and 
then  find,  on  coming  back,  that  you  have  been  knitting 
a  mitten  when  I  had  started  the  frame  of  a  sock," 
Maria  said,  laughing;  "make  flower  hay  while  the  crop 
is  to  be  had  for  the  gathering,  my  lady !  Another  year 
you  may  not  have  such  free  hands  1" 

Then  my  protests  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  for 
the  establishment  had  thriven  marvellously  well  with- 
out my  daily  interference.  The  jam  closet  shows 
rows  of  everything  that  might  be  made  of  strawberries, 
cherries,  currants,  and  raspberries,  and  it  suddenly 
struck  me  that  possibly  if  domestic  machinery  is  set 
going  on  a  consistent  basis,  whether  it  is  not  a  mistake 
to  do  too  much  oiling  and  tightening  of  a  screw  here 
and  there,  unless  distinct  symptoms  of  a  halt  render  it 
absolutely  necessary. 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  with  a  show  of  spunk,  "give  me 
one  single  task,  that  I  may  not  feel  as  if  I  had  no  part 
in  the  homemaking.  Something  as  ornamental  and 
frivolous  as  you  choose,  but  that  shall  occupy  me  at 
least  two  hours  a  day!" 

Maria  paused  a  moment;  we  were  then  standing  in 
front  of  the  fireplace,  where  a  jar  of  bayberry 
filled  the  place  of  logs  between  the  andirons.  First, 


208  THE    GARDEN,   YOU,    AND    I 

casting  her  eyes  through  the  doors  of  dining  room,  living 
room,  and  den,  she  fixed  them  on  me  with  rather  a  mis- 
chievous twinkle,  as  she  said,  "You  shall  gather  and 
arrange  the  flowers  for  the  house ;  and  always  have  plenty 
of  them,  but  never  a  withered  or  dropsical  blossom 
among  them  all.  You  shall  also  invent  new  ways  for 
arranging  them,  new  combinations,  new  effects,  the  only 
restriction  being  that  you  shall  not  put  vases  where  the 
water  will  drip  on  books,  or  make  the  house  look 
like  the  show  window  of  a  wholesale  florist.  I  will  give 
you  a  fresh  mop,  and  you  can  have  the  back  porch  and 
table  for  your  workshop,  and  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  you 
will  find  two  hours  a  day  little  enough  for  the  work!" 
she  added  with  very  much  the  air  of  some  one  engag- 
ing a  new  housemaid  and  presenting  her  with  a 
broom ! 

It  has  never  taken  me  two  hours  to  gather  and  ar- 
range the  flowers,  and  though  of  course  we  are  only 
beginning  to  have  much  of  a  garden,  we've  always  had 
flowers  in  the  house,  —  quantities  of  sweet  peas  and  such 
things,  besides  wild  flowers.  I  began  to  protest,  an  injured 
feeling  rising  in  my  throat,  that  she,  Maria  Maxwell, 
music  teacher,  city  bound  for  ten  years,  should  think  to 
instruct  me  of  recent  outdoor  experience. 

"Yes,  you've  always  had  flowers,  but  did  you  pick 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING        209 

the  sweet  peas  or  did  Barney  ?  Did  you  cram  them  hap- 
hazard into  the  first  thing  that  came  handy  (probably 
that  awful  bowl  decorated  in  ten  discordant  colours 
and  evidently  a  wedding  present,  for  such  atrocities 
never  find  any  other  medium  of  circulation)  ?  Or  did 
you  separate  them  nicely,  and  arrange  the  pink  and  sal- 
mon peas  with  the  lavender  in  that  plain-coloured 
Sevres  vase  that  is  unusually  accommodating  in  the 
matter  of  water,  then  putting  the  gay  colours  in  the  blue- 
and-white  Delft  bowl  and  the  duller  ones  in  cut  glass  to 
give  them  life?  Having  plenty,  did  you  change  them 
every  other  day,  or  the  moment  the  water  began  to  look 
milky,  or  did  you  leave  them  until  the  flowers  clung  to- 
gether in  the  first  stages  of  mould  ?  Meanwhile,  the  un- 
gathered  flowers  on  the  vines  were  seriously  developing 
peas  and  shortening  their  stems  to  be  better  able  to  bear 
their  weight.  And,  Mary  Penrose,"  —  here  Maria 
positively  glared  at  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  primary  pupil 
in  the  most  undesirable  school  of  her  route  who  was  both 
stone  deaf  and  afflicted  with  catarrh,  "did  you  wash  out 
your  jars  and  vases  with  a  mop  every  time  you  changed 
the  flowers,  and  wipe  them  on  a  towel  separate  from 
the  ones  used  for  the  pantry  glass  ?  No,  you  never  did  ! 
You  tipped  the  water  out  over  there  at  the  end  of  the 
piazza  by  the  honeysuckles,  because  you  couldn't  quite 


210  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND    I 

bring  yourself  to  pouring  it  down  the  pantry  sink, 
refilled  the  vases,  and  that  was  all!" 

In  spite  of  a  certain  sense  of  annoyance  that  I  felt 
at  the  way  in  which  Maria  was  giving  me  a  lecture,  and 
somehow  when  a  person  has  taught  for  ten  years  she 
(particularly  she)  inevitably  acquires  a  rather  unpleas- 
ant way  of  imparting  the  truth  that  makes  one  wish  to 
deny  it,  I  stood  convicted  in  my  own  eyes  as  well  as  in 
Maria's.  It  had  so  often  happened  that  when  either 
Barney  had  brought  in  the  sweet  peas  and  left  them  on 
the  porch  table,  or  Bart  had  gathered  a  particularly 
beautiful  wild  bouquet  in  one  of  his  tramps,  I  had  lin- 
gered over  a  book  or  some  bit  of  work  upstairs  until 
almost  the  time  for  the  next  meal,  and  then,  seeing  the 
half-withered  look  of  reproach  that  flowers  wear  when 
they  have  been  long  out  of  water,  I  have  jammed  them 
helter-skelter  into  the  first  receptacle  at  hand. 

Sometimes  a  little  rough  verbal  handling  stirs  up  the 
blood  under  a  too-complacent  cuticle.  Maria's  preach- 
ment did  me  good,  the  more  probably  because  the  time 
was  ripe  for  it,  and  therefore  the  past  two  weeks  have 
been  filled  with  new  pleasures,  for  another  thing  that 
the  month  spent  in  the  open  has  shown  me  is  the  wonder- 
ful setting  the  natural  environment  and  foliage  gives 
to  a  flower.  At  first  the  completeness  appeals  insensibly, 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         211 

and  unless  one  is  of  the  temperament  that  seeks  the 
cause  behind  the  effect,  it  might  never  be  realized. 

The  Japanese  have  long  since  arrived  at  a  method 
of  arranging  flowers  which  is  quality  and  intrinsic  value 
as  opposed  to  miscellaneous  quantity.  The  way  of 
nature,  however,  it  seems  to  me,  is  twofold,  for  there  are 
flowers  that  depend  for  beauty,  and  this  with  nature 
that  seems  only  another  word  for  perpetuity,  upon  the 
strength  of  numbers,  as  well  as  those  that  make  a  more 
individual  appeal.  The  composite  flowers  —  daisies, 
asters,  goldenrod  —  belong  to  the  class  that  take  natu- 
rally to  massing,  while  the  blue  flag,  meadow  and  wood 
lilies,  together  with  the  spiked  orchises,  are  typical  of 
the  second. 

By  the  same  process  of  comparison  I  have  decided 
that  jars  and  vases  having  floral  decorations  themselves 
are  wholly  unsuitable  for  holding  flowers.  They  should 
be  cherished  as  bric-a-brac,  when  they  are  worthy  speci- 
mens of  the  art  of  potter  and  painter,  but  as  receptacles 
for  flowers  they  have  no  use  beyond  holding  sprays  of 
beautiful  foliage  or  silver-green  masses  of  ferns. 

Porcelain,  plain  in  tint  and  of  carefully  chosen  colours, 
such  as  beef-blood,  the  old  rose,  and  peach-blow  hues,  in 
which  so  many  simple  forms  and  inexpensive  bits  of 
Japanese  pottery  may  be  bought,  a  peculiar  creamy 


212          THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

yellow,  a  dull  green,  gobelin,  and  Delft  blue  and  white, 
sacred  to  the  jugs  and  bowls  of  our  grandmothers,  all 
do  well.  Cut  glass  is  a  fine  setting  for  flowers  of  strong 
colour,  but  kills  the  paler  hues,  and  above  and  beyond 
all  is  the  dark  moss-green  glass  of  substantial  texture 
that  is  fashioned  in  an  endless  variety  of  shapes.  By 
chance,  gift,  and  purchase  we  have  gathered  about  a  dozen 
pieces  of  this,  ranging  from  a  cylinder  almost  the  size 
of  an  umbrella-stand  down  through  fluted,  hat-shaped 
dishes,  for  roses  or  sweet  peas,  to  some  little  troughs  of 
conventional  shapes  in  which  pansies  or  other  short- 
stemmed  flowers  may  be  arranged  so  as  to  give  the  look 
of  an  old-fashioned  parterre  to  the  dining  table. 

I  had  always  found  these  useful,  but  never  quite 
realized  to  the  full  that  green  or  brown  is  the  only  consist- 
ent undercolour  for  all  field  and  grass-growing  flowers 
until  this  summer.  But  during  days  that  I  have  spent 
browsing  in  the  river  woods,  while  Bart  and  Barney, 
and  more  recently  Larry,  have  been  digging  the  herbs 
that  we  have  marked;  I  have  realized  the  necessity  of 
a  certain  combinaticn  of  earth,  bark,  and  dead-leaf 
browns  in  the  receptacles  for  holding  wood  flowers  and 
the  vines  that  in  their  natural  ascent  clasp  and  cling  to 
the  trunks  and  limbs  of  trees. 

Several  years  ago  mother  sent  me  some  pretty  flower- 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING        213 

holders  made  of  bamboos  of  different  lengths,  intended 
evidently  to  hang  against  door-jambs  or  in  hallways. 
The  pith  was  hollowed  out  here  and  there,  and  the  hole 
plugged  from  beneath  to  make  little  water  pockets. 
These  did  admirably  for  a  season,  but  when  the  wood 
dried,  it  invariably  split,  and  treacherous  dripping  fol- 
lowed, most  ruinous  to  furniture. 

A  few  weeks  back,  when  looking  at  some  mossed  and 
gnarled  branches  in  the  woods,  an  idea  occurred  to  Bart 
and  me  at  the  same  moment.  Why  could  we  not  use 
such  pieces  as  these,  together  with  some  trunks  of  your 
beloved  white  birch,  to  which  I,  via  the  screen  at  Opal 
Farm,  was  becoming  insensibly  devoted  at  the  very 
time  that  you  wrote  me? 

Augur  holes  could  be  bored  in  them  at  various  dis- 
tances and  angles,  if  not  too  acute;  the  thing  was  to 
find  glass,  in  bottle  or  other  forms,  to  fit  in  the  openings. 
This  difficulty  was  solved  by  The  Man  from  Everywhere 
on  his  reappearance  the  night  before  the  Fourth,  after 
an  absence  of  a  whole  week,  laden  with  every  manner 
of  noise  and  fire  making  arrangement  for  the  Infant, 
though  I  presently  found  that  Bart  had  partly  instigated 
the  outfit,  and  the  two  overgrown  boys  revelled  in  fire- 
balloons  and  rockets  under  cover  of  the  Infant's  en- 
thusiasm, much  as  the  grandpa  goes  to  the  circus  as  an 


2i4  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

apparent  martyr  to  little  Tommy's  desire!  A  large 
package  that,  from  the  extreme  care  of  its  handling,  I 
judged  must  hold  something  highly  explosive,  on  being 
opened  divulged  many  dozens  of  the  slender  glass  tubes, 
with  a  slight  lip  for  holding  cord  or  wire,  such  as,  filled 
with  roses  or  orchids,  are  hung  in  the  garlands  of  as- 
paragus vines  and  smilax  in  floral  decorations  of  either 
houses  or  florists'  windows.  These  tubes  varied  in 
length  from  four  to  six  inches,  the  larger  being  three 
inches  in  diameter. 

"Behold  your  leak -proof  interiors!"  he  cried,  hold- 
ing one  up.  "Now  set  your  wits  and  Bart's  tool-box 
to  work  and  we  shall  have  some  speedy  results!" 

Dear  Man  from  Everywhere,  he  had  bought  a  gross 
of  the  glasses,  thereby  reminding  me  of  a  generous  but 
eccentric  great-uncle  of  ours  who  had  a  passion  for  at- 
tending auctions,  and  once,  by  error,  in  buying,  as  he 
supposed,  twelve  yellow  earthenware  bowls,  found  him- 
self confronted  by  twelve  dozen.  Thus  grandmother's 
storeroom  literally  had  a  golden  lining,  and  my  entire 
childhood  was  pervaded  with  these  bowls,  several  finally 
falling  into  my  possession  for  the  mixing  of  mud  pies ! 
But  between  the  durability  of  yellow  bowls  and  blown- 
glass  tubes  there  is  little  parallel,  and  already  I  have 
found  the  advantage  of  having  a  good  supply  in  stock. 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         215 

Our  first  natural  flower-holder  is  a  great  success. 
Having  found  a  four-pronged  silver  birch,  with  a  broken 
top,  over  in  the  abandoned  gravel-pit  (where,  by  the  way, 
are  a  score  of  others  to  be  had  for  the  digging,  and  such 
easy  digging  too),  Larry  sawed  it  off  a  bit  below  the 
ground,  so  as  to  give  it  an  even  base.  The  diameter 
of  the  four  uprights  was  not  quite  a  foot,  all  told,  and 
these  were  sawn  of  unequal  lengths  of  four,  six,  seven, 
and  nine  inches,  care  being  taken  not  to  "haggle,"  as 
Larry  calls  it,  the  clean  white  bark  in  the  process. 

Then  Bart  went  to  work  with  augur  and  round  chisel, 
and  bored  and  chipped  out  the  holes  for  the  glass  tubes, 
incidentally  breaking  two  glasses  before  we  had  comforta- 
bly settled  the  four,  for  they  must  fit  snugly  enough  not 
to  wiggle  and  tip,  and  yet  not  so  tight  as  to  bind  and  pre- 
vent removal  for  cleaning  purposes.  This  little  stand 
of  natural  wood  was  no  sooner  finished  and  mounted 
on  the  camp  table  than  its  possibilities  began  to  crowd 
around  it.  Ferns  being  the  nearest  at  hand,  I  crawled 
over  the  crumbling  bank  wall  into  the  Opal  Farm 
meadow  and  gathered  hay-scented,  wood,  and  lady  ferns 
from  along  the  fence  line  and  grouped  them  loosely  in 
the  stand.  The  effect  was  magical,  a  bit  of  its  haunt 
following  the  fern  indoors. 

Next  day  I  gathered  in  the  hemlock  woods  a  basket 


2i6  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  the  waxy,  spotted-leaved  pipsissewa,  together  with 
spikes  and  garlands  of  club  moss.  I  had  thought  these 
perfect  when  steadied  by  bog  moss  in  a  flat,  cut-glass 
dish,  but  in  the  birch  stump  they  were  entirely  at  home. 
If  these  midsummer  wood  flowers  harmonize  so  well, 
how  much  more  charming  will  be  the  blossoms  of  early 
spring,  a  season  when  the  white  birch  is  quite  the  most 
conspicuous  tree  in  the  landscape !  Picture  dog-tooth  vio- 
lets, spring  beauties,  bellwort,  Quaker-ladies,  and  great 
tufts  of  violets,  shading  from  white  to  deepest  blue,  in 
such  a  setting !  Or,  of  garden  things,  poets'  narcissus 
and  lilies-of-the- valley ! 

Other  receptacles  of  a  like  kind  we  have  in  different 
stages  of  progress,  made  of  the  wood  of  sassafras,  oak, 
beech,  and  hackberry,  together  with  several  irregular 
stumps  of  lichen-covered  cedar.  Two  long  limbs  with 
several  short  side  branches  Bart  has  flattened  on  the 
back  and  arranged  with  picture- hooks,  so  that  they  can 
be  bracketed  against  the  frame  of  the  living-room  door, 
opposite  the  flower-greeting  table  that  I  have  fashioned 
after  yours.  These  are  to  be  used  for  vines,  and  I 
shall  try  to  keep  this  wide,  open  portal  cheerfully 
garlanded. 

The  first  week  of  my  flower  wardenship  was  a  most 
strenuous  one.  I  use  the  word  reluctantly,  but  having 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING          217 

tried  half  a  dozen  others,  no  equivalent  seemed  to  fit. 
I  had  flowers  in  every  room  in  the  house,  bedchambers 
included,  using  in  this  connection  the  cleanest-breathed 
and  longest-lived  blossoms  possible. 

Late  as  was  the  sowing,  the  annuals  remaining  in  the 
seed  bed  have  begun  to  yield  a  glorious  crop.  The 
fireplaces  were  filled  with  black-eyed  Susans  from  the 
fields  and  hollyhocks  from  an  old  self-seeded  colony  at 
Opal  Farm,  and  every  available  vase,  bowl,  and  pitcher 
had  something  in  it.  How  I  laboured  !  I  washed  jars, 
sorted  colours,  and  freshened  still  passable  arrangements 
of  the  day  before,  and  all  the  while  I  felt  sure  that  Maria 
was  watching  me,  with  an  amused  twinkle  in  the  tail 
of  her  eye ! 

One  day,  the  middle  of  last  week,  the  temperature 
dropped  suddenly,  and  we  fled  from  camp  to  the  house 
for  twenty-four  hours,  lighted  the  logs  in  the  hall,  and 
actually  settled  down  to  a  serious  game  of  whist  in  the 
evening,  Maria  Maxwell,  The  Man,  Bart,  and  I.  Yes,  I 
know  how  you  detest  the  game,  but  I — though  I  am  not 
exactly  amused  by  it  —  rather  like  it,  for  it  gives  occupa- 
tion at  once  for  the  hands  and  thoughts  and  a  cover  for 
studying  the  faces  and  moods  of  friends  without  the 
reproach  of  staring. 

By  the  way,  The  Man  has  hired  half  the  house  from 


218  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Amos  Opie  —  it  was  divided  several  years  ago  —  and 
established  helter-skelter  bachelor  quarters  at  Opal 
Farm.  Bart  has  told  him,  over  and  over  again,  how  wel- 
come he  is  to  stay  here,  under  any  and  all  conditions, 
while  he  works  in  the  vicinity,  but  he  says  that  he  needs 
a  lot  of  room  for  his  traps,  muddy  boots,  etc.,  while  Opie, 
a  curious  Jack-at-all-trades,  gives  him  his  breakfast. 
I'm  wondering  if  The  Man  felt  that  he  was  intruding 
upon  Maria  by  staying  here,  or  if  she  has  any  Mrs. 
Grundy  ideas  and  was  humpy  to  him,  or  even  suggested 
that  he  would  better  move  up  the  road.  She  is  quite 
capable  of  it ! 

However,  he  seems  glad  enough  to  drop  in  to  dinner 
of  an  evening  now,  and  the  two  are  so  delightfully  cordial 
and  unembarrassed  in  their  talk,  neither  yielding  a  jot 
to  the  other,  in  the  resolute  spinster  and  bachelor  fashion, 
that  I  must  conclude  that  his  going  was  probably  a 
natural  happening. 

This  evening,  while  Maria  and  I  were  waiting  together 
for  the  men  to  finish  toying  with  their  coffee  cups  and 
match-boxes  and  emerge  refreshed  from  the  delightful 
indolence  of  the  after-dinner  smoke,  the  odour  of  the 
flowers  —  intensified  both  by  dampness  and  the  wood- 
smoke  —  was  very  manifest. 

"How  do  you  like  your  employment?"  asked  Maria. 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         219 

"I  like  the  decorative  and  inventive  part  of  it,"  I 
said,  thinking  into  the  fire,  "but  I  believe"  —  and  here 
I  hesitated  as  a  chain  of  peculiar  green  flame  curled 
about  the  log  and  held  my  attention.  "That  it  is  quite 
as  possible  to  overdo  the  house  decoration  with  flowers 
as  it  is  to  spoil  a  nice  bit  of  lawn  with  too  many  fan- 
tastic flower  beds!"  Bart  broke  in  quite  unexpect- 
edly, coming  behind  me  and  raising  my  face,  one  hand 
beneath  my  chin.  "Isn't  that  what  you  were  thinking, 
my  Lady  Lazy?" 

"Truly  it  was,  only  I  never  meant  to  let  it  pop  out 
so  suddenly  and  rudely,"  I  was  forced  to  confess.  "In 
one  way  it  would  seem  impossible  to  have  too  many 
flowers  about,  and  yet  in  another  it  is  unnatural,  for 
are  not  nature's  unconscious  effects  made  by  using  colour 
as  a  central  point,  a  focus  that  draws  the  eye  from  a  more 
sombre  and  soothing  setting?" 

"How  could  we  enjoy  a  sunset  that  held  the  whole 
circle  of  the  horizon  at  once  ?  "  chimed  in  The  Man,  sud- 
denly, as  if  reading  my  thoughts.  "  Or  twelve  moons  ?  " 
added  Bart,  laughing. 

No,  Mrs.  Evan,  I  am  convinced  by  so  short  a  trial 
as  two  weeks  that  the  art  of  arranging  flowers  for  the 
house  is  first,  your  plan  of  having  some  to  greet  the  guest 
as  he  enters,  a  bit  of  colour  or  coolness  in  each  room 


220          THE   GARDEN,  YOU,   AND   I 

where  we  pause  to  read  or  work  or  chat,  and  a  table 
garnishing  to  render  aesthetic  the  aspect  and  surround- 
ings of  the  human  animal  at  his  feeding  time ;  otherwise, 
except  at  special  seasons  of  festivity,  a  surplus  of  flowers 
in  the  house  makes  for  restlessness,  not  peace.  Two  days 
ago  I  had  thirty-odd  vases  and  jars  filled  with  flowers, 
and  I  felt,  as  I  sat  down  to  sew,  as  if  I  was  trespassing 
in  a  bazaar !  Also,  if  there  are  too  many  jars  of  various 
flowers  in  one  room,  it  is  impossible  that  each  should 
have  its  own  individuality. 

To-day  I  began  my  new  plan.  I  put  away  a  part 
of  my  jars  and  vases  and  deliberately  thought  out 
what  flowers  I  would  use  before  gathering  them. 

The  day  being  overcast  though  not  threatening, 
merely  the  trail,  as  it  were,  of  the  storm  that  had  passed, 
and  the  den  being  on  the  north  side  of  the  house  and 
finished  in  dark  woodwork  and  furniture,  I  gathered 
nasturtiums  in  three  shades  for  it,  the  deep  crimson, 
orange-scarlet,  and  canary-yellow,  but  not  too  many  — 
a  blue- and- white  jar  of  the  Chinese  "ginger"  pattern  for 
one  corner  of  the  mantel-shelf,  and  for  the  Japanese  well 
buckets,  that  are  suspended  from  the  central  hanging 
lamp  by  cords,  a  cascade  of  blossoms  of  the  same  colour 
still  attached  to  their  own  fleshy  vines  and  interspersed 
with  the  foliage.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  little  bit 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING  221 

of  pottery,  though  of  a  peculiar  deep  pink,  harmon- 
izes wonderfully  well  with  the  barbaric  nasturtium 
colours.  There  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  magic  blended 
with  the  form  and  colour  of  these  buckets,  plain  and 
severe  in  shape,  that  swing  so  gracefully  from  their 
silken  cords,  for  they  give  grace  to  every  flower  that 
touches  them.  When  filled  with  stiff  stalks  of  lilies- 
of-the- valley  or  tulips,  they  have  an  equally  distinguished 
air  as  when  hung  with  the  bells  of  columbines  or  gar- 
lands of  flowering  honeysuckles  twisted  about  the  cords 
climbing  quite  up  to  the  lamp. 

In  the  hall  I  placed  my  tallest  green-glass  jar  upon  the 
greeting  table  and  filled  it  with  long  stalks  of  red  and 
gold  Canada  lilies  from  the  very  bottom  of  Amos 
Opie's  field,  where  the  damp  meadow-grass  begins  to 
make  way  for  tussocks  and  the  marshy  ground 
begins. 

The  field  now  is  as  beautiful  as  a  dream ;  the  early 
grasses  have  ripened,  and  above  them,  literally  by  the 
hundreds,  —  rank,  file,  regiment,  and  platoon,  —  stand 
these  lilies,  some  stalks  holding  twenty  bells,  ranged  as 
regularly  as  if  the  will  of  man  had  set  them  there,  and 
yet  poised  so  gracefully  that  we  know  at  once  that  no 
human  touch  has  placed  them.  I  wish  that  you  could 
have  stood  with  me  in  the  doorway  of  the  camp  and 


222          THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

looked  across  that  field  this  morning.  Bart  declared  the 
sight  to  be  the  first  extra  dividend  upon  our  payment 
to  Amos  Opie  for  leaving  the  grass  uncut. 

I  left  the  stalks  of  the  lilies  full  three  feet  long  and  used 
only  their  own  foliage,  together  with  some  broad-leaved 
grasses,  to  break  the  too  abrupt  edge  of  the  glass.  This 
is  a  point  that  must  be  remembered  in  arranging  flowers, 
the  keeping  the  relative  height  and  habit  of  the  plant  in 
the  mind's  eye.  These  lilies,  gathered  with  short  stems 
and  massed  in  a  crowded  bunch,  at  once  lose  their  in- 
dividuality and  become  mere  little  freckled  yellow 
gamins  of  the  flower  world. 

A  rather  slender  jar  or  vase  also  gives  an  added  sense 
of  height;  long-stemmed  flowers  should  never  be  put 
in  a  flat  receptacle,  no  matter  how  adroitly  they  may  be 
held  in  place.  Only  last  month  I  was  called  upon  to 
admire  a  fine  array  of  long- stemmed  roses  that  were  held 
in  a  flat  dish  by  being  stuck  in  wet  sand,  and  even  though 
this  was  covered  by  green  moss,  the  whole  thing  had  a 
painfully  artificial  and  embalmed  look,  impossible  to 
overcome. 

For  the  living  room,  which  is  in  quiet  green  tones  and 
chintz-upholstered  wicker  furniture,  I  gathered  Shirley 
poppies.  They  are  not  as  large  and  perfectly  developed 
as  those  I  once  saw  in  your  garden  from  fall-sown  seed, 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING          223 

but  they  are  so  delicately  tinted  and  the  petals  so  grace- 
fully winged  that  it  seemed  like  picking  handfuls  of 
butterflies. 

Maria  Maxwell  has  shown  me  how,  by  looking  at  the 
stamens,  I  can  tell  if  the  flower  is  newly  opened,  for  by 
picking  only  such  they  will  last  two  full  days.  How 
lasting  are  youthful  impressions!  She  remembers  all 
these  things,  though  she  has  had  no  very  own  garden 
these  ten  years  and  more.  Will  the  Infant  remember 
creeping  into  my  cot  in  these  summer  mornings,  cuddling 
and  being  crooned  to  like  a  veritable  nestling,  until  her 
father  gains  sufficient  consciousness  to  take  his  turn 
and  delight  her  by  the  whistled  imitation  of  a  few  simple 
bird  songs?  Yes,  I  think  so,  and  I  would  rather  give 
her  this  sort  of  safeguard  to  keep  off  harmful  thoughts 
and  influences  than  any  worldly  wisdom. 

The  poppies  I  arranged  in  my  smallest  frosted-white 
and  cut-glass  vases  in  two  rows  on  the  mantel- shelf, 
before  the  quaint  old  oblong  mirror,  making  it  look  like 
a  miniature  shrine.  Celia  Thaxter  had  this  way  of 
using  them,  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  reflection  in  the 
glass  doubling  the  beauty  and  making  the  frail  things 
seem  alive ! 

For  the  library,  where  oak  and  blue  are  the  prevailing 
tints,  I  filled  a  silver  tankard  with  a  big  bunch  of  blue 


224          THE   GARDEN,  YOU,   AND   I 

cornflowers,  encircled  by  the  leaves  of  "dusty  miller," 
and  placed  it  on  the  desk. 

The  dining-room  walls  are  of  deep  dark  red  that  must 
be  kept  cool  in  summer.  At  all  seasons  I  try  to  have  the 
table  decorations  low  enough  not  to  oblige  us  to  peer  at 
one  another  through  a  green  mist,  and  to-day  I  made  a 
wreath  of  hay-scented  ferns  and  ruby-spotted  Japan 
lilies  (Speciosum  rubrum,  the  tag  says  —  they  were  sent 
as  extras  with  my  seeds),  by  combining  two  half- moon 
dishes,  and  in  the  middle  set  a  slender,  finely  cut,  flar- 
ing vase  holding  two  perfect  stems,  each  bearing  half 
a  dozen  lily  buds  and  blossoms.  These  random  bulbs 
are  the  first  lilies  of  my  own  planting.  There  are  a  few 
stalks  of  the  white  Madonna  lilies  in  the  grass  of  the 
old  garden  and  a  colony  of  tiger  lilies  and  an  upright 
red  lily  with  different  sort  of  leaves,  all  clustered  at  the 
root,  following  the  tumble -down  wall,  the  rockery 
to  be.  I  am  fascinated  by  these  Japanese  lilies  and 
desire  more,  each  stalk  is  so  sturdy,  each  flower  so 
beautifully  finished  and  set  with  jewels  and  then 
powdered  with  gold,  as  it  were.  Pray  tell  me  some- 
thing about  the  rest  of  the  family!  Do  they  come 
within  my  range  and  pocket,  think  you?  The  first 
cost  of  a  fair-sized  bed  would  be  considerable,  but  if 
they  are  things  that  by  care  will  endure,  it  is  some- 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING        225 

thing  to  save  up  for,  when  the  rose  bed  is  completed  — 
take  note  of  that ! 

When  Bart  came  home  this  afternoon,  he  walked 
through  the  rooms  before  going  out  and  commented 
on  the  different  flowers,  entirely  simple  in  arrangement, 
and  lingered  over  them,  touching  and  taking  pleasure 
in  them  in  a  way  wholly  different  from  last  week, 
when  each  room  was  a  jungle  and  I  was  fairly  suffering 
from  flower  surfeit. 

Now  I  find  myself  taking  note  of  happy  combinations 
of  colour  in  other  people's  gardens  and  along  the  high- 
ways for  further  experiments.  I  seem  to  remember 
looking  over  a  list  of  flower  combinations  and  sugges- 
tions in  your  garden  book.  Will  you  lend  it  to  me? 

By  the  way,  opal  effects  seem  to  circle  about  the  place 
this  season  —  the  sunsets,  the  farm-house  windows,  and 
finally  that  rainy  night  when  we  were  playing  whist, 
when  The  Man,  taking  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  pulled 
out  a  little  chamois  bag  that,  being  loose  at  one  end, 
shed  a  shower  of  the  unset  stones  upon  the  green  cloth, 
where  they  lay  winking  and  blinking  like  so  many  fiery 
coals. 

"Are  you  a  travelling  jeweler's  shop?"  quizzed  Bart. 

"No,"  replied  The  Man,  watching  the  stones  where 
they  lay,  but  not  attempting  to  pick  them  up;  "the 


226  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

opal  is  my  birth  stone,  and  I've  always  had  a  fancy  for 
picking  them  up  at  odd  times  and  carrying  them  with 
me  for  luck!" 

"I  thought  that  they  are  considered  unlucky,"  said 
Maria,  holding  one  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  watch- 
ing the  light  play  upon  it. 

"That  is  as  one  reads  them,"  said  The  Man;  "to 
me  they  are  occasionally  contradictory,  that  is  all; 
otherwise  they  represent  adaptation  to  circumstances, 
and  inexpensive  beauty,  which  must  always  be  a 
consolation." 

Then  he  gave  us  each  one,  "to  start  a  collection," 
he  said.  I  shall  have  mine  set  as  a  talisman  for  the 
Infant.  I  like  this  new  interpretation  of  the  stone, 
for  to  divine  beauty  in  simple  things  is  a  gift  equal  to 
genius. 

Maria,  however,  insisted  upon  giving  an  old-fashioned 
threepenny  bit,  kept  as  a  luck  penny  in  the  centre  of 
her  purse,  in  exchange.  How  can  any  woman  be  so 
devoid  of  even  the  little  sentiment  of  gifts  as  she  is? 

A  moment  later  The  Man  from  Everywhere  elec- 
trified us  by  saying,  in  the  most  casual  manner,  "Now 
that  we  are  on  the  subject  of  opals,  did  I  tell  you  that, 
being  in  some  strange  manner  drawn  to  the  place,  I 
have  made  Opie  an  offer  for  the  Opal  Farm?" 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING        227 

"Good  enough!  but  what  for?"  exclaimed  Bart, 
nearly  exposing  a  very  poor  hand. 

"How  splendid!"  I  cried,  checking  an  impulse 
to  throw  my  arms  around  his  neck  so  suddenly  that  I 
shied  my  cards  across  the  room  —  "Then  the  meadow 
need  never  be  cut  again !" 

"What  a  preposterous  idea!  Did  he  accept  the 
offer  ?  "  jerked  Maria  Maxwell,  with  a  certain  eagerness. 

The  Marts  face,  already  of  a  healthy  outdoor  hue, 
took  a  deeper  colour  above  the  outline  of  his  closely 
cropped  black  beard,  which  he  declined  to  shave,  in  spite 
of  prevailing  custom. 

"I'm  afraid  my  popularity  as  a  neighbour  is  a  minor 
quality,  when  even  my  Lady  Lazy  makes  it  evident  that 
her  enthusiasm  is  for  meadow  weeds  and  not  myself!" 

"When  would  you  live  there?"  asked  practical  Bart. 

"All  the  time,  when  I'm  not  elsewhere!"  said  The 
Man.  "No,  seriously,  I  want  permanent  headquarters, 
a  house  to  keep  my  traps  in,  and  it  can  easily  be  some- 
what remodelled  and  made  comfortable.  I  want  to 
own  a  resting-place  for  the  soles  of  my  feet  when  they 
are  tired,  and  is  it  strange  that  I  should  pitch  my  tent 
near  two  good  friends?" 

It  was  a  good  deal  for  The  Man  to  say,  and  instantly 
there  was  hand- shaking  and  back-clapping  between 


228  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Bart  and  himself,  and  the  game  became  hopelessly 
mixed. 

As  for  Maria,  she  as  nearly  sniffed  audibly  at  the  idea 
as  a  well-bred  woman  could.  It  is  strange,  I  had  almost 
fancied  during  the  course  of  the  past  month,  and 
especially  this  evening,  that  The  Man's  glance,  when 
toward  her,  held  a  special  approval  of  a  different 
variety  than  it  carried  to  Bart  and  me !  If  Maria 
is  going  to  worry  him,  she  shall  go  back  to  her  flat ! 
I've  often  heard  Bart  say  that  men's  feelings  are  very 
woundable  at  forty,  while  at  twenty-five  a  hurt  closes 
up  like  water  after  a  pebble  has  been  dropped  in  it. 

******* 

Yes,  Maria  has  been  rude  to  The  Man,  and  in  my 
house,  too,  where  she  represents  me !  Anastasia  told 
me !  I  suppose  I  really  ought  not  to  have  listened, 
but  it  was  all  over  before  I  realized  what  she  was 
saying. 

"Yes,  mem,  for  all  Miss  Marie  do  be  fixed  out,  so 
tasty  and  pleasant  like  to  everybody,  and  so  much 
chicked  up  by  the  country  air,  she's  no  notion  o'  beaus 
or  of  troubling  wid  the  men  !" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Anastasia?"  said  I,  in  perfect 
innocence.  "  Of  course  Miss  Maria  is  not  a  young  girl 
to  go  gadding  about!" 


FRANKNESS  AND  GARDENING         229 

"It's  not  gadding  I  mean,  mem,  but  here  on  the  porch, 
one  foine  night,  jest  before  the  last  time  Mister  Blake 
went  off  fer  good,  they  was  sat  there  some  toime,  so  still 
that,  says  I  to  meself ,  '  When  they  do  foind  spach,  it'll 
be  something  worth  hearing!' 

" '  Do  I  annoy  you  by  staying  here  ?  Would  you  prefer 
I  went  elsewhere  ? '  says  he,  and  well  I  moind  the  words, 
for  Oi  thought  an  offer  was  on  the  road,  and  as  'twas 
the  nearest  I'd  been  to  wan,  small  wonder  I  got  ex- 
coited !  Then  Miss  Marie  spoke  up,  smooth  as  a  knife 
cutting  ice. cream,  —  'To  speak  frankly,'  says  she,  'you 
do  not  exactly  annoy  me,  but  I'd  much  rather  you  went 
elsewhere!'  Och,  but  it  broke  me  heart,  the  sound  of 
it!" 


LIST     OF     FLOWER     COMBINATIONS    FOR 

THE   TABLE  FROM   BARBARA'S 

GARDEN  BOKE 

HEAVILY  SCENTED  FLOWERS,  SUCH  AS  HYACINTHS,  LEMON  AND  AURA- 
TUM  LILIES,  POLYANTHUS  NARCISSUS,  MAGNOLIAS,  LILACS,  AND  THE 
LIKE,  SHOULD  BE  AVOIDED. 

Snowdrops  and  pussy-willows. 

Hepaticas  and  moss. 

Spice-bush  and  shad-bush  sprays. 

Trailing  arbutus  and  sweet,  white  garden  violets. 

Double  daffodils  and  willow  sprays. 

Crocus  buds  and  moss. 

Blue  garden  scillas  and  wild  white  saxifrage. 

Black -birch  catkins  and  wind-flowers. 

Plants  of  the  various  wild  violets,  according  to  season,  arranged 

in  an  earthen  pan  with  a  moss  or  bark  covering. 
Old-fashioned  myrtle,  with  its  glossy  leaves,  and  single  narcissus, 

or  English  primroses. 
Bleeding-heart  and  young  ferns. 
English  border  primroses  in  small  rose  bowls. 
Lilies-of -the -valley,  with  plenty  of  their  own  leaves,  and  poets' 

narcissus. 

Tulip-tree  flowers  and  leaves. 

The  wild  red-and-gold  columbine  with  young  white-birch  sprays. 
Pinxter  flower  and  the  New  York  or  wood  fern. 
Jack-in-the-pulpit  with    its  own   leaves,    in  a  bark   or   moss 

covered  jar. 

230 


LIST  OF  FLOWER  COMBINATIONS     231 

Pink  moccasin-flowers  with  ferns,  in  bark-covered  jar. 

Pansies  with  ivy  or  laurel  leaves,  arranged  in  narrow  dishes  to 

form  a  parterre  about  a  central  mirror. 
Iceland  poppies  with  small  ferns  or  grasses. 
May  pinks  and  forget-me-nots. 

Blue  larkspurs  and  deutzia  (always  put  white  with  blue  flowers). 
Peonies  with  evergreen  ferns,  in  a  central  jar. 
Sweet-william,  arranged  in  separate  colours  for  parterre  effect 

or  in  a  large  blue-and-white  bowl,  with  graceful  sprays  of 

honeysuckle  flowers. 
Wild  roses  with  plenty  of  buds  and  foliage,  in  blue-and-white 

bowls. 

Roses  in  large  sprays  with  branches  of  the  young  leaves  of  cop- 
per beech  —  or  masses  of  Chinese  honeysuckle. 
Roses  with  short  stems  arranged  with  their  own  or  rugosa  foliage 

in  blue-and-white  dishes  that  have  coarse  wire  netting  fitted 

to  the  top  to  keep  the  flowers  in  place. 
White  field  daisies,  clover,  and  flowering  grasses,  in  a  large 

bowl  or  jar. 
Mountain  laurel  with  its  own  leaves,  in  central  jar  and  parterre 

dishes. 
Nasturtiums,  in   cut-glass   bowl  or  vase,  with   the  foliage   of 

lemon  verbena. 
Sweet  peas  of  five  colours  with  a  fringe  of  maiden-hair  ferns, 

the  deepest  colour   in   a  central   jar,   with  other  smaller 

bowls  at  corners,  and  small  ferns  laid  around  mirror  and 

on  cloth  between. 
Japan  lilies,  single  flowers,  in  parterre  dishes  with  ivy  leaves,  and 

sprays  in  central  vase. 
Balsams  arranged  in  effect  of  set  borders. 
Asters  in  separate  colours. 


232  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Spotted-leaved  pipsissewa  of  the  woods  with  fern  border,  in  bark- 
covered  dish. 

Red  and  gold  bell  meadow  lilies,  in  large  jar,  with  field  grasses. 
Gladioli  —  the  flowers  separated  from  the  stalks  and  arranged 

with  various  leaves  for  parterre  effect,  or  stalks  laid  upon  the 

cloth  with  evergreen   ferns   to   separate  the    places   at  a 

formal  meal. 
Sweet  sultan,  in  separate  colours,  in  rose  bowls,  with  fragrant 

geranium  or  lemon-verbena  foliage. 
Shirly  poppies  with  grasses  or  green  rye,  in   four  slender  vases 

about  a  larger  centrepiece. 
Margaret  or  picotee  carnations  with  mignonette,  arranged  loosely 

in  a  cut-glass  vase  or  bowl. 
Green  rye,  wheat,  or  oats  with  the  blue  garden  cornflower  — 

or  wild  blue  chickory. 

Wild  asters  with  heavy  tasselled  marsh-grasses. 
Goldenrods  with  purple  iron  weed  and   vines  of    wild   white 

clematis,  arranged  about  a  flat  dish  of  peaches  and  pears. 
All  through  autumn  place  your  central  mirror  on  a  mat  made  by 

laying  freshly  gathered  coloured  leaves  upon  the  cloth. 
Wallflowers  and  late  pansies. 
White  Japanese  anemonies  and  ferns. 
Grass  of  Parnassus,  ladies  tresses,  and  marsh  shield  ferns. 
Garden  chrysanthemums,  in  blue-and-white  jars  and  bowls,  on  a 

large  mat  of  brown  magnolia  leaves. 

Sprays  of  yellow  witch-hazel  flowers  and  leaves  of  red  oak. 
Sprays   of   coral    winterberry,  from   which    leaves    have    been 

removed,  and  white-pine  tassels. 
Club -mosses,  small  evergreen  ferns,  and  partridge  vine  with  its 

red  berries,  in  a  bark-covered  dish  of  earth. 


XI 

A   SEASIDE   GARDEN 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 
Gray  Rocks,  July  19.  Your  epistle  upon  the  evils 
of  an  excess  of  flowers  in  the  house  found  us  here  with 
the  Cortrights  and  Bradfords,  and  I  read  it  with  Lavinia 
and  Sylvia  on  either  side,  as  the  theme  had  many  notes 
in  it  familiar  to  us  all !  There  are  certainly  times  and 
seasons  when  the  impulse  is  overpowering  to  lay  hold 
of  every  flower  that  comes  in  the  way  and  gather  it  to 
one's  self,  to  cram  every  possible  nook  and  corner  with 
this  portable  form  of  beauty  and  fairly  indulge  in  a  flower 
orgie.  Then  sets  in  a  reaction  that  shows,  as  in  so 
many  things,  the  middle  path  is  the  best  for  every  day. 
Also  there  are  many  enthusiastic  gardeners,  both  among 
those  who  grow  their  own  flowers  and  those  who  cause 
them  to  be  grown,  who  spare  neither  pains  nor  money 
until  the  flowers  are  gathered ;  then  their  grip  relaxes, 
and  the  house  arrangement  of  the  fruit  of  their  labour 
is  left  to  chance. 

In  many  cases,  where  a  professional  gardener  is  in 
233 


234  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

charge,  several  baskets,  containing  a  confused  mass  of 
blossoms,  are  deposited  daily  in  porch  or  pantry,  often 
at  a  time  when  the  mistress  is  busy,  and  they  are  either 
overlooked  or  at  the  last  moment  crammed  into  the  first 
receptacle  that  comes  to  hand,  from  their  very  inoppor- 
tuneness  creating  almost  a  feeling  of  dislike. 

When  once  lodged,  they  are  frequently  left  to  their 
fate  until  they  become  fairly  noisome,  for  is  there  any- 
thing more  offensive  to  aesthetic  taste  than  blackened 
and  decaying  flowers  soaking  in  stagnant  water? 

Was  it  not  Auerbach,  in  his  Poet  and  Merchant,  who 
said,  "The  lovelier  a  thing  is  in  its  perfection,  the  more 
terrible  it  becomes  through  its  corruption  "  ?  and  cer- 
tainly this  applies  to  flowers. 

Flowers,  like  all  of  the  best  and  lasting  pleasures, 
must  be  taken  a  little  seriously  from  the  sowing  of  the 
seed  to  the  placing  in  the  vase,  that  they  may  become 
the  incense  of  home,  and  the  most  satisfactory  way  of 
choosing  them  for  this  use  is  to  make  a  daily  tour  about 
the  garden,  or,  if  a  change  is  desired,  through  the  fields 
and  highways,  and,  with  the  particular  nook  you  wish 
to  fill  in  mind,  gather  them  yourself. 

Even  the  woman  with  too  wide  a  selection  to  gather 
from  personally  can  in  this  way  indicate  what  she 
wishes. 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  235 

In  the  vegetable  garden  the  wise  man  thinks  out  his 
crop  and  arranges  a  variety  for  the  table ;  no  one  wishes 
every  vegetable  known  to  the  season  every  day,  and  why 
should  not  the  eye  be  educated  and  nourished  by  an 
equal  variety? 

We  are  all  very  much  interested  in  your  flower-holders 
of  natural  wood,  and  I  will  offer  you  an  idea  in  exchange, 
after  the  truly  cooperative  Garden,  You,  and  I  plan. 
In  the  flower  season,  instead  of  using  your  embroidered 
centrepieces  for  the  table,  which  become  easily  stained 
and  defaced  by  having  flowers  laid  upon  them,  make 
several  artistic  table  centres  of  looking-glass,  bark,  moss, 
or  a  combination  of  all  three. 

Lavinia  Cortright  and  I,  as  a  beginning,  have  oval 
mirrors  of  about  eighteen  inches  in  length,  with  invisibly 
narrow  nickel  bindings.  Sometimes  we  use  these  with 
merely  an  edge  of  flowers  or  leaves  and  a  crystal  basket 
or  other  low  arrangement  of  flowers  in  the  centre. 
The  glass  is  only  a  beginning,  other  combinations  being 
a  birch-bark  mat,  several  inches  wider  than  the  glass, 
that  may  be  used  under  it  so  that  a  wide  border 
shows,  or  the  mat  by  itself  as  a  background  for 
delicate  wood  flowers  and  ferns.  A  third  mat  I  have 
made  of  stout  cardboard  and  covered  with  lichens, 
reindeer  moss,  and  bits  of  mossy  bark,  and  I  never  go 


236  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

to  the  woods  but  what  I  see  a  score  of  things  that  fairly 
thrust  themselves  before  me  and  offer  to  blend  with 
one  of  these  backgrounds,  and  by  holding  the  eye  help 
to  render  meal-times  less  "foody,"  as  Sukey  Latham 
puts  it,  though  none  the  less  nourishing. 

Last  night  when  we  gathered  at  dinner,  a  few  moments 
after  our  arrival  and  our  first  meeting  at  this  cottage, 
I  at  once  became  aware  that  though  host  and  hostess 
were  the  same  delightful  couple,  we  were  not  dining 
at  Meadow's  End,  their  Oaklands  cottage,  but  at 
Gray  Rocks,  with  silver  sea  instead  of  green  grass 
below  the  windows.  While  the  sea  surroundings  were 
brought  indoors  and  on  the  centre  of  the  dinner  table 
the  mirror  was  edged  by  a  border  of  sea-sand,  glistening 
pebbles  and  little  shells  were  arranged  as  a  background 
instead  of  mosses  and  lichens,  and  rich  brown  seaweeds 
still  moist  with  the  astringent  tonic  sea  breath  edged 
this  frame,  and  the  more  delicate  rose-coloured  and 
pale  green  weeds  seemed  floating  upon  the  glass,  that 
held  a  giant  periwinkle  shell  filled  with  the  pink  star- 
shaped  sabbatia,  or  sea  pink,  of  the  near-by  salt  marshes. 
There  was  no  effort,  no  strain  after  effect,  but  a  con- 
sistent preparation  of  the  eye  for  the  simple  meal  of  sea 
food  that  followed. 

In  front  of  the  cottage  the  rocks  slope  quickly  to  the 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  237 

beach,  but  on  either  side  there  is  a  stretch  of  sand 
pocketed  among  the  rocks,  and  in  the  back  a  dune  stops 
abruptly  at  the  margin  of  wide  salt  meadows,  creek- 
fed  and  unctuous,  as  befits  the  natural  gardens  of  the 
sea. 

The  other  cottages  lying  to  the  eastward  are  gay 
in  red-and- white  striped  awnings,  and  porch  and  window 
boxes  painted  red  or  green  are  filled  with  geraniums,  nas- 
turtiums, petunias, — any  flowers,  in  short,  that  will  thrive 
in  the  broiling  sun,  while  some  of  the  owners  have 
planted  buoy-like  barrels  at  the  four  corners  of  their 
enclosures  and  filled  them  with  the  same  assortment  of 
foliage  plants  with  which  they  would  decorate  a  village 
lawn.  This  use  of  flowers  seemed  at  once  to  draw  the 
coolness  from  the  easterly  breeze  and  intensify  the  heat 
that  vibrates  from  the  sand. 

Have  you  ever  noticed  that  the  sea  in  these  latitudes 
has  no  affinity  for  the  brightest  colours,  save  as  it  is  a 
mirror  for  the  fleeting  flames  of  sunrise  and  sunset? 

The  sea-birds  are  blended  tints  of  rock,  sand,  sky, 
and  water,  save  the  dash  of  coral  in  bill  and  foot  of 
a  few,  just  as  the'coral  of  the  wild- rose  hips  blends  with 
the  tawny  marsh-grasses.  Scarlet  is  a  colour  abhorred 
even  by  the  marshes,  until  late  in  autumn  the  blaze  of 
samphire  consumes  them  with  long  spreading  tongues 


238  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  flame.  How  can  people  be  so  senseless  as  to  come 
seaward  to  cool  their  bodies,  and  yet  so  surround  them- 
selves with  scarlet  that  it  is  never  out  of  range  of  the  eye  ? 

Lavinia  Cortright  and  the  botanical  Bradfords,  as 
Evan  calls  them,  because  though  equally  lovers  of  flowers, 
they  go  further  than  some  for  the  reason  why  that  lies 
hid  beneath  the  colour  and  perfume,  have  laid  out  and 
are  still  developing  a  sand  garden  that,  while  giving 
the  cottage  home  the  restful  air  that  is  a  garden's 
first  claim,  has  still  the  distinct  identity  of  the  sand 
and  sea! 

To  begin,  with  one  single  exception,  they  have  drawn 
upon  the  wild  for  this  garden,  even  as  you  are  doing  in 
the  restoration  of  your  knoll.  Back  of  the  cottage  a 
dozen  yards  is  a  sand  ridge  covering  some  fairly  good, 
though  mongrel,  loam,  for  here,  as  along  most  of  the 
coasts  of  sounds  and  bays,  the  sea,  year  by  year,  has  bitten 
into  the  soil  and  at  the  same  time  strewn  it  with  sand. 
Considering  this  as  the  garden  boundary,  a  windbreak 
of  good-sized  bayberry  bushes  has  been  placed  there,  not 
in  a  stiff  line,  but  in  blended  groups,  enclosing  three 
sides,  these  bays  being  taken  from  a  thicket  of  them 
farther  toward  the  marshes. 

An  alley  from  the  back  porch  into  this  enclosure  is 
bordered  on  either  side  by  bushes  of  beach  plum,  that, 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  239 

when  covered  with  feathery  white  bloom  in  May,  before 
the  leaves  appear,  gives  the  sandy  shore  the  only  orchard 
touch  it  knows.  Of  course  the  flowering  period  is  over 
when  the  usual  shore  season  begins,  though  nowadays 
there  is  no  off  time  —  people  go  to  shore  and  country 
when  they  are  moved;  yet  the  beach  plum  is  a  pic- 
turesque bush  at  any  time,  especially  when,  in  Sep- 
tember, it  is  loaded  with  the  red  purple  fruit.  In  the 
two  spaces  on  either  side  the  alley  the  sand  is  filled  with 
massed  plants  that,  when  a  little  more  time  has  been 
given  them  for  stretching  and  anchoring  their  roots, 
will  straightway  weave  a  flower  mat  upon  the  sand. 

Down  beyond  the  next  point,  one  day  last  autumn, 
Horace  and  Sylvia  found  a  plantation  of  our  one  New 
England  cactus,  the  prickly  pear  (Opuntia  opuntia). 
We  have  it  here  and  there  in  our  rocky  pasture ;  but  in 
greater  heat  and  with  better  underfeeding  it  seemed  a 
bit  of  a  tropical  plain  dropped  on  the  eastern  coast.  Do 
you  know  the  thing?  The  leaves  are  shaped  like  the 
fans  of  a  lobster's  tail  and  sometimes  are  several- jointed, 
smooth  except  for  occasional  tufts  of  very  treacherous 
spikes,  and  of  a  peculiar  semitranslucent  green;  the 
half-double  flowers  set  on  the  leaf  edges  are  three  inches 
across  and  of  a  brilliant  sulphur-yellow,  with  tasselled 
stamens ;  the  fruit  is  fleshy,  somewhat  fig-shaped,  and 


240  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  a  dark  red  when  ripe  —  altogether  a  very  decorative 
plant,  though  extremely  difficult  to  handle. 

After  surveying  the  plantation  on  all  sides,  the  tongs 
used  by  the  oyster  dredges  suggested  themselves  to 
Horace,  and  thus  grasped,  the  prickly  pears  were  safely 
moved  and  pegged  in  their  new  quarters  with  long  pieces 
of  bent  wire,  the  giant  equivalents  of  the  useful  hairpins 
that  I  recommended  for  pegging  down  your  ferns. 

Now  the  entire  plot  of  several  yards  square,  appar- 
ently untroubled  by  the  removal,  is  in  full  bloom,  and 
has  been  for  well-nigh  a  month,  they  say,  though  the  in- 
dividual blossoms  are  but  things  of  a  day.  Close  by, 
another  yellow  flower,  smaller  but  more  pickable,  is 
just  now  waving,  the  rock  rose  or  frostweed,  bearing 
two  sorts  of  flowers :  the  conspicuous  yellow  ones,  some- 
what resembling  small  evening  primroses,  while  all 
the  ground  between  is  covered  with  an  humble  member 
of  the  rock  rose  family  —  the  tufted  beach  heather 
with  its  intricate  branches,  reminding  one  more  of  a  club- 
moss  than  a  true  flowering  plant.  Not  a  scrap  of  sand 
in  the  enclosure  is  left  uncovered,  and  the  various  plants 
are  set  closely,  like  the  grasses  and  wild  flowers  of  a 
meadow,  the  sand  pinweed  that  we  gather,  together 
with  sea  lavender,  for  winter  bouquets  much  resembling 
a  flowering  grass. 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  241 

The  rabbit-foot  clover  takes  kindly  to  the  sandy 
soil,  and,  as  it  flowers  from  late  May  well  into  September, 
and  holds  its  little  furry  tails  like  autumn  pussy-willows 
until  freezing  weather,  makes  a  very  interesting  sort 
of  bed  all  by  itself,  and  massed  close  to  it,  as  if  rec- 
ognizing the  family  relationship,  is  the  little  creeping 
bush  clover  with  its  purplish  flowers. 

Next,  set  thickly  in  a  mass  representing  a  stout  bush, 
comes  the  fleshy  beach  pea  with  rosy  purple  flowers. 
When  it  straggles  along  according  to  its  sweet  will,  it 
has  a  poor  and  weedy  look,  but  massed  so  that  the  some- 
what difficult  colour  is  concentrated,  it  is  very  decorative, 
and  it  serves  as  a  trellis  for  the  trailing  wild  bean,  a 
sand  lover  that  has  a  longer  flowering  season. 

A  patch  of  a  light  lustrous  purple,  on  closer  view, 
proves  to  be  a  mass  of  the  feathered  spikes  of  blaz- 
ing star  or  colic-root,  first  cousin  of  the  gay-feather  of 
the  West,  that  sometimes  grows  six  feet  high  and  has 
been  welcomed  to  our  gardens. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  beach-plum  alley,  the 
Bradfords  have  made  preparations  for  autumn  glory, 
such  as  we  always  drive  down  to  the  marsh  lands  from 
Oaklands  not  only  to  see  but  to  gather  and  take  home. 
Masses  of  the  fleshy  tufted  seaside  goldenrod,  now  just 
beginning  to  throw  up  its  stout  flowerstalks,  flank  a  bed 


242  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

of  wild  asters  twenty  feet  across.  Here  are  gathered 
all  the  asters  that  either  love  or  will  tolerate  dry  soil,  a 
certain  bid  for  their  favour  having  been  made  by  mixing 
several  barrels  of  stiff  loam  with  the  top  sand,  as  an 
encouragement  until  the  roots  find  the  hospitable  mix- 
ture below. 

The  late  purple  aster  (patens)  with  its  broad  clasping 
leaves,  the  smooth  aster  (lavis)  with  its  violet-blue 
flowers,  are  making  good  bushes  and  preparing  for  the 
pageant.  Here  is  the  stiff  white-heath  aster,  the  fa- 
miliar Michaelmas  daisy,  that  is  so  completely  covered 
with  snowy  flowers  that  the  foliage  is  obliterated,  and 
proves  its  hold  upon  the  affections  by  its  long  string  of 
names,  —  frostweed,  white  rosemary,  and  farewell 
summer  being  among  them, — and  also  the  white- wreath 
aster,  with  the  flowers  ranged  garland- wise  among  the 
rigid  leaves,  and  the  stiff  little  savory-leaved  aster  or  sand 
starwort  with  pale  violet  rays.  Forming  a  broad, 
irregular  border  about  the  asters  are  stout  dwarf  bushes 
of  the  common  wild  rose  (humilis),  that  bears  its  deep 
pink  flowers  in  late  spring  and  early  summer  and  then 
wears  large  round  hips  that  change  slowly  from  green 
to  deep  glowing  red,  in  time  to  make  a  frame  of  coral 
beads  for  the  asters. 

Outside  the  hedge  of  bays,  where  a  trodden  pathway 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  243 

leads  to  the  boat  landing,  the  weathered  rocks,  washed 
with  soft  tints  blended  of  the  breath  of  sea  mist  and  sun- 
set rays,  break  through  the  sand.  In  the  lee  of  these, 
held  in  place  by  a  line  of  stones,  is  a  long,  low  bed  of 
large-flowered  portulaca,  borrowed  from  inland  gar- 
dens, and  yet  so  in  keeping  with  its  surroundings  as  to 
seem  a  native  flower  of  sea  sands. 

The  fleshy  leaves  at  a  little  distance  suggest  the  form 
of  many  plants  of  brackish  marsh  and  creek  edges, 
and  even  the  glasswort  itself.  When  the  day  is  gray, 
the  flowers  furl  close  and  disappear,  as  it  were,  but 
when  the  sun  beats  full  upon  the  sand,  a  myriad  upraised 
fleshy  little  arms  stretch  out,  each  holding  a  coloured 
bowl  to  catch  the  sunbeams,  as  if  the  heat  made  molten 
the  sand  of  quartz  and  turned  it  into  pottery  in  tints  of 
rose,  yellow,  amber,  scarlet,  and  carnation  striped.  It 
was  a  bold  experiment,  this  garden  in  the  sand,  but 
already  it  is  making  good. 

Then,  too,  what  a  refreshment  to  the  eyes  is  it,  when 
the  unbroken  expanse  of  sky  and  sea  before  the  house 
tires,  to  turn  them  landward  over  the  piece  of  flowers 
toward  the  cool  green  marshes  ribboned  with  the  pale 
pink  camphor-scented  fleabane,  the  almost  intangible 
sea  lavender,  the  great  rose  mallows  and  cat-tail  flags 
of  the  wet  ground,  the  false  indigo  that,  in  the  distance, 


244  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

reminds  one  of  the  broom  of  Scottish  hills,  the  orange- 
fringed  orchis,  pink  sabbatia,  purple  maritime  gerardia, 
milkwort,  the  groundsel  tree,  that  covers  itself  with 
feathers  in  autumn,  until,  far  away  beyond  the  upland 
meadows,  the  silver  birches  stand  as  outposts  to  the  cool 
oak  woods,  in  whose  shade  the  splendid  yellow  gerardia, 
or  downy  false  foxglove,  flourishes.  Truly,  while  the 
land  garden  excels  in  length  of  season  and  profusion, 
the  gardens  of  the  sea  appeal  to  the  lighter  fancies 
and  add  the  charmed  spice  of  variety  to  out-of-door 
life. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  this  cottage 
and  its  surroundings  is  the  further  transplanting  of 
Martin  Cortright  from  his  city  haunts.  At  Meadow's 
End,  though  he  works  in  the  garden  in  a  dilettante  sort  of 
way  with  Lavinia,  takes  long  walks  with  father,  and  oc- 
casionally ventures  out  for  a  day's  fishing  with  either 
or  both  of  my  men,  he  is  still  the  bookworm  who  dives 
into  his  library  upon  every  opportunity  and  has  never 
yet  adapted  his  spine  comfortably  to  the  curves  of  a 
hammock !  In  short  he  seems  to  love  flowers  histori- 
cally —  more  for  the  sake  of  those  in  the  past  who  have 
loved  and  written  of  them  than  for  their  own  sake. 

But  here,  even  as  I  began  to  write  to  you,  Mary  Pen- 
rose,  entrenched  in  a  nook  among  the  steep  rocks 


A  SEASIDE  GARDEN  245 

between  the  cottage  and  the  sea,  a  figure  coming  up  the 
sand  bar,  that  runs  northward  and  at  low  water  shows 
a  smooth  stretch  a  mile  in  length,  caught  my  eye. 
Laboriously  but  persistently  it  came  along;  next  I  saw 
by  the  legs  that  it  was  a  man,  a  moment  later  that  he 
was  lugging  a  large  basket  and  that  a  potato  fork  pro- 
truded from  under  one  arm,  and  finally  that  it  was  none 
other  than  Martin  Cortright,  who  had  been  hoeing  dili- 
gently in  the  sand  and  mud  for  a  couple  of  hours,  that 
his  guests  might  have  the  most  delectable  of  all  suppers, 
—  steamed  clams,  fresh  from  the  water,  the  condition 
alone  under  which  they  may  be  eaten  sans  peur  et  sans 
reproche! 


xn 


THE   TRANSPLANTING    OF    EVERGREENS 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 
Woodridge,  August  8.  Back  again  in  our  camp,  we 
thought  to  pause  awhile,  rest  on  our  oars,  and  drift 
comfortably  with  the  gentle  summer  tide  of  things. 
We  have  transplanted  all  the  ferns  and  wild  herbs 
for  which  we  have  room,  and  as  a  matter  of  course 
trees  and  shrubs  must  wait  until  they  have  shed  their 
leaves  in  October.  That  is,  all  the  trees  that  do  shed. 
The  exceptions  are  the  evergreens,  of  which  the  river 
woods  contain  any  number  in  the  shape  of  hemlocks, 
spruces,  and  young  white  pines,  the  offspring,  I  take 
it,  of  a  plantation  back  of  the  Windom  farm,  for  we  have 
not  found  them  anywhere  else. 

The  best  authorities  upon  the  subject  of  evergreens 
say  that  trees  of  small  size  should  be  transplanted 
either  in  April,  before  they  have  begun  to  put  on 
their  dressy  spring  plumes,  or,  if  the  season  be  not 
too  hot  and  dry,  or  the  distance  considerable,  in  Au- 
gust, after  this  growth  has  matured,  time  thus  being 
246 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS     247 

given  for  them  to  become  settled  in  the  ground  before 
winter. 

We  weighed  the  matter  well.  The  pros  in  favour  of 
spring  planting  lay  in  the  fact  that  rain  is  very  likely 
to  be  plentiful  in  April,  and  given  but  half  a  chance, 
everything  grows  best  in  spring;  the  cons  being  that 
the  spring  rush  is  usually  overpowering,  that  in  a  late 
season  the  frost  would  not  be  fairly  out  of  the  knoll 
and  ground  by  the  fence,  where  we  need  a  windbreak, 
before  garden  planting  time,  and  that  during  the 
winter  clearing  that  will  take  place  in  the  river  valley, 
leaf  fires  may  be  started  by  the  workmen  that  will  run 
up  the  banks  and  menace  our  treasure-trove  of  ever- 
greens. 

The  pros  for  August  consisted  mainly  of  the  pith 
of  a  proverb  and  a  bit  of  mad  Ophelia's  sanity: 
"There  is  no  time  like  the  present"  and  "We  know 
what  we  are,  but  know  not  what  we  may  be!" 

At  present  we  have  a  good  horse,  Larry,  and  plenty 
of  time,  the  con  being,  suppose  we  have  a  dry,  hot 
autumn.  The  fact  that  we  have  a  new  water- barrel 
on  wheels  and  several  long-necked  water-pots  is  only 
a  partial  solution  of  the  difficulty,  for  the  nearest  well 
is  an  old-fashioned  arrangement  with  a  sweep,  located 
above  the  bank  wall  at  Opal  Farm.  This  well  is  an 


248  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

extremely  picturesque  object  in  the  landscape,  but  as 
a  water-producer  as  inadequate  as  the  shaving-mug 
with  which  the  nervous  gentleman,  disturbed  at  his 
morning  task,  rushed  out  to  aid  in  extinguishing 
a  fire! 

Various  predictions  as  to  the  weather  for  the  month 
have  been  lavished  upon  us,  the  first  week  having 
produced  but  one  passing  shower.  Amos  Opie  fore- 
sees a  muggy,  rainless  period.  Larry  declares  for  much 
rain,  as  it  rained  at  new  moon  and  again  at  first  quarter ; 
but,  as  he  says,  as  if  to  release  himself  from  respon- 
sibility, "  That's  the  way  we  read  it  in  Oireland,  but 
maybe,  as  this  is  t'other  side  of  the  warld,  it's  all  the 
other  way  round  wid  rain!"  Barney  was  noncom- 
mittal, but  then  his  temperament  is  of  the  kind  that 
usually  regrets  whatever  is. 

For  three  or  four  days  we  remained  undecided,  and 
then  The  Man  from  Everywhere  brought  about  a  swift 
decision  for  August  transplanting,  by  the  information 
that  the  general  clearing  of  the  woodlands  would  be- 
gin November  first,  the  time  for  fulfilling  the  con- 
tract having  been  shortened  by  six  months  at  the  final 
settlement. 

We  covet  about  fifty  specimen  pines  and  hemlocks 
for  the  knoll  and  fully  two  hundred  little  hemlocks 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS     249 

for  the  windbreaks,  so  we  at  once  began  the  work 
and  are  giving  two  days  a  week  to  the  digging  and 
transporting  and  the  other  four  to  watering.  That 
is,  Bart  and  Larry  are  doing  this ;  I  am  looking  on, 
making  suggestions  as  to  which  side  of  a  tree  should 
be  in  front,  nipping  off  broken  twigs,  and  doing  other 
equally  light  and  pleasant  trifles. 

Our  system  of  transplanting  is  this:  we  have  any 
number  of  old  burlap  feed  bags,  which,  having  become 
frayed  and  past  their  usefulness,  we  bought  at  the 
village  store  for  a  song.  These  Larry  filled  with  the 
soft,  elastic  moss  that  florists  use,  of  which  there  is 
any  quantity  in  the  low  backwater  meadows  of  the 
river.  A  good-sized  tree  (and  we  are  not  moving  any 
of  more  than  four  or  five  feet  in  height ;  larger  ones,  it 
seems,  are  better  moved  in  early  winter  with  a  ball  of 
frozen  earth)  has  a  bag  to  itself,  the  roots,  with  some 
earth,  being  enveloped  in  the  moss,  the  bag  as  securely 
bound  about  them  as  possible  with  heavy  cord,  and 
the  whole  thing  left  to  soak  at  the  river  edge  while 
the  next  one  is  being  wrapped.  Of  the  small  hemlocks 
for  the  windbreak,  —  and  we  are  using  none  over  two  or 
three  feet  for  this  purpose,  as  we  want  to  pinch  them 
in  and  make  them  stocky,  —  the  roots  of  three  or  four 
will  often  go  into  a  bag. 


250  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

When  enough  for  a  day's  planting  is  thus  col- 
lected, we  go  home,  stack  them  in  the  shade,  and  the 
next  morning  the  resetting  begins !  The  bags  are 
not  opened  until  they  are  by  the  hole  in  which  the  trees 
are  to  be  placed,  which,  by  the  way,  is  always  made 
and  used  after  the  directions  you  gave  us  for  rose  plant- 
ing; and  I'm  coming  to  agree  with  you  that  the  suc- 
cess in  gardening  lies  more  than  half  in  the  putting 
under  ground,  and  that  the  proper  spreading  and 
securing  of  roots  in  earth  thoroughly  loosened  to  allow 
new  roots  to  feel  and  find  their  way  is  one  of  the 
secrets  of  what  is  usually  termed  "luck" ! 

This  may  sound  like  a  very  easy  way  of  acquiring 
trees,  but  it  sometimes  takes  an  hour  to  loosen  a  sturdy 
pine  of  four  feet.  Of  course  a  relentless  hand  that 
stops  at  nothing,  with  a  grub-axe  and  spade,  could  do 
it  in  fifteen  minutes,  but  the  roots  would  be  cut  or 
bruised  and  the  pulling  and  tugging  be  so  violent  that 
not  a  bit  of  earth  would  cleave,  and  thus  the  fatal 
drying  process  set  in  almost  before  the  digging  was 
completed. 

Larry  first  loosens  the  soil  all  about  the  tree  with 
a  crowbar,  dislodging  any  binding  surface  stones 
in  the  meantime ;  then  the  roots  are  followed  to  the 
end  and  secured  entire  when  possible,  a  bit  of  detec- 


TRANSPLANTING   OF  EVERGREENS     251 

tive  work  more  difficult  than  it  sounds  in  a  bank 
where  forest  trees  of  old  growth  have  knit  roots  with 
saplings  for  mutual  protection. 

Setting-out  day  sees  a  procession  of  three  water- 
carriers  going  Indian  file  up  one  side  of  the  knoll  and 
down  the  other.  Bart  declares  that  by  the  time  his 
vacation  is  over  he  will  be  sufficiently  trained  to  be- 
come captain  of  the  local  fire  company,  which  con- 
sists of  an  antique  engine,  of  about  the  capacity  of  one 
water-barrel,  and  a  bucket  brigade. 

This  profuse  use  of  water,  upon  the  principle  of 
imitation,  has  brought  about  another  demand  for  it 
on  the  premises.  The  state  of  particularly  clay-and- 
leaf-mouldy  perspiration  in  which  Bart  finds  himself 
these  days  cries  aloud  for  a  shower-bath,  nor  is  he  or 
his  boots  and  clothing  in  a  suitable  condition  for 
tramping  through  the  house  and  turning  the  family 
bath-tub  into  a  trough  wherein  one  would  think  flower- 
pots had  been  washed. 

With  the  aid  of  Amos  Opie  an  oil-barrel  has  been 
trussed  up  like  a  miniature  windmill  tank  in  the  end 
of  the  camp  barn,  one  end  of  which  rests  on  the  ground, 
and  being  cellarless  has  an  earth  floor.  Around  the 
supports  of  this  tank  is  fastened  an  unbleached  cotton 
curtain,  and  when  standing  within  and  pulling  a  cord 


252  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

attached  to  an  improvised  spray,  the  contents  of  the 
barrel  descend  upon  Bart's  person  with  hygienic 
thoroughness,  the  only  drawback  being  that  twelve 
pails  of  water  have  to  be  carried  up  the  short  ladder 
that  leads  from  floor  to  barrel  top  each  time  the  shower 
is  used.  Bart,  however,  seems  to  enjoy  the  process 
immensely,  and  Larry,  by  the  way  in  which  he  lingers 
about  the  place  and  grins,  evidently  has  a  secret  de- 
sire to  experiment  with  it  himself. 

Larry  has  been  a  great  comfort  up  to  now,  but  we 
both  have  an  undefined  idea  that  one  of  his  periods 
of  "rest"  is  approaching.  He  works  with  feverish 
haste,  alternating  with  times  of  sitting  and  looking  at 
the  ground,  that  I  fear  bodes  no  good.  He  also  seems 
to  take  a  diabolic  pleasure  in  tormenting  Amos  Opie 
as  regards  the  general  make-up  and  pedigree  of  his 
beloved  hound  David. 

David  has  human  intelligence  in  a  setting  that  it 
would  be  difficult  to  classify  for  a  dog-show ;  a  melan- 
choly bloodhound  strain  certainly  percolates  thor- 
oughly through  him,  and  his  long  ears,  dewlaps,  and 
front  legs,  tending  to  bow,  separate  him  from  the  fox 
"'ounds"  of  Larry's  experience.  To  Amos  Opie 
David  is  the  only  type  of  hound  worthy  of  the  name; 
consequently  there  has  been  no  little  language  upon 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS     253 

the  subject.  That  is,  Larry  has  done  the  talking, 
punctuated  by  contemptuous  "hubs"  and  sniffs  from 
Amos,  tf.itil  day  before  yesterday.  On  this  day  David 
went  on  a  hunting  trip  extending  from  five  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  until  the  next  morning,  during  which  his 
voice,  blending  with  two  immature  cries,  told  that  he 
was  ranging  miles  of  country  in  company  with  a  pair 
of  thoroughbred  fox-hound  pups,  owned  by  the  post- 
master, the  training  of  which  Amos  Opie  was  super- 
intending, and  owing  to  an  attack  of  rheumatism 
had  delegated  to  David,  whose  reliability  for  this 
purpose  could  not  be  overestimated  according  to  his 
master's  way  of  thinking.  For  a  place  in  some  ways 
so  near  to  civilization,  the  hills  beyond  the  river  woods 
abound  in  fox  holes,  and  David  has  conducted  some 
good  runs  on  his  own  account,  it  seems ;  but  this  time 
alack !  alack !  he  came  limping  slowly  home,  footsore 
and  bedraggled,  followed  by  his  pupils  and  bearing  a 
huge  dead  cat  of  the  half-wild  tribe  that,  born  in  a 
barn  and  having  no  owner,  takes  to  a  prowling  life 
in  the  woods. 

I  cannot  quite  appreciate  the  enormity  of  the  of- 
fence, but  doubtless  Dr.  Russell  and  your  husband 
can,  as  they  live  in  a  fox-hunting  country.  It  seems 
that  a  rabbit  would  have  been  bad  enough,  something 


254  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

however,  to  be  condoned,  —  but  not  a  cat !  Instantly 
Amos  fixed  upon  Larry  as  the  responsible  cause  of 
the  calamity,  —  Larry,  who  is  so  soaked  in  a  species  of 
folk-lore,  blended  of  tradition,  imagination,  and  high 
spirits  that,  after  hearing  him  talk,  it  is  easy  to  believe 
that  he  deals  in  magic  by  the  aid  of  a  black  cat,  and 
unfortunately  the  cat  brought  in  by  David  was  of  this 
colour ! 

Then  Amos  spoke,  for  David's  honour  was  as  his 
own,  and  Larry  heard  a  pronounced  Yankee's  opinion, 
not  only  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  Emerald  Isle, 
but  of  one  in  particular !  After  freeing  his  mind,  he 
threatened  to  free  his  house  of  Larry  as  a  lodger,  this 
being  particularly  unfortunate  considering  the  near 
approach  of  one  of  that  gentleman's  times  of  retire- 
ment. 

Last  night  I  thought  the  sky  had  again  cleared,  for 
Amos  discovered  that  the  postmaster  did  not  suspect 
the  cat  episode,  and  as  Larry  had  no  friends  in  the 
village  through  which  it  might  leak  out,  the  old  man 
seemed  much  relieved;  also,  Larry  apparently  is  not 
a  harbourer  of  grievances.  Within  an  hour,  however, 
a  second  episode  has  further  strained  the  relationship 
of  lodger  and  host,  and  it  has  snapped. 

Though  still  quite  stiff  in  the  joints,  Amos  came 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS     255 

over  this  morning  to  do  some  little  tinkering  in  the 
barn  camp,  especially  in  strengthening  the  stays  of 
the  shower-bath  tank,  when,  as  he  was  on  his  knees 
fastening  a  brace  to  a  post,  in  some  inexplicable  man- 
ner the  string  was  pulled  and  the  contents  of  the  entire 
barrel  of  cold  well-water  were  released,  the  first  sprinkle 
so  astonishing  and  bewildering  poor  Amos  that  he 
remained  where  he  was,  and  so  received  a  complete 
drenching. 

Bart  and  Larry  were  up  in  the  woods  getting  the 
day's  load  of  hemlocks,  and  I,  hearing  the  spluttering 
and  groans,  went  to  Amos's  rescue  as  well  as  I  could, 
and  together  with  Maria  Maxwell  got  him  to  the 
kitchen,  where  hot  tea  and  dry  clothes  should  have 
completely  revived  him  in  spite  of  age.  As,  however, 
to-day,  it  seems,  is  the  anniversary  of  a  famous  illness 
he  acquired  back  in  '64,  on  his  return  from  the  Civil 
War,  the  peculiarities  of  which  he  has  not  yet  ceased 
proclaiming,  he  is  evidently  determined  to  celebrate  it 
forthwith,  so  he  has  taken  to  his  bed,  groaning  with 
a  stitch  in  his  side.  The  doctor  has  been  telephoned, 
and  Maria  Maxwell,  as  usual  bursting  with  energy, 
which  on  this  occasion  takes  a  form  between  that  of 
a  dutiful  daughter  and  a  genuine  country  neighbour, 
has  gone  over  to  Opal  Farm  to  tidy  up  a  bit  until 


256  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

the  doctor  gives  his  decision  and  some  native  woman, 
agreeable  to  Amos's  taste,  can  be  found  to  look  after 
the  interesting  yet  aggravating  crank. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Amos  declines  to  allow  Larry 
to  lodge  in  the  house  for  another  night,  attributing 
the  ducking  to  him,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  at 
least  six  miles  away.  In  this  both  Bart  and  I  think 
Amos  right,  for  Larry's  eye  had  a  most  inquiring  ex- 
pression on  his  return,  and  I  detected  him  slipping 
into  the  old  barn  at  the  first  opportunity  to  see  if  the 
tank  was  empty,  while  Bart  says  that  he  has  been 
talking  to  himself  in  a  gleeful  mood  all  the  morning, 
and  so  he  has  decided  that,  as  Larry  has  worked  long 
enough  to  justify  it,  he  will  buy  him  a  prepaid  passage 
home  to  his  daughter  and  see  him  off  personally  by 
to-morrow's  steamer.  As  Amos  will  have  none  of 
Larry,  to  send  the  man  into  village  lodgings  would  prob- 
ably hasten  his  downfall.  I  did  hope  to  keep  him 
until  autumn,  for  he  has  taught  me  not  a  little  garden- 
ing in  a  genial  and  irresponsible  sort  of  way,  and  the 
rose  garden  is  laid  out  in  a  manner  that  would  do 
credit  to  a  trained  man,  Larry  having  the  rare  com- 
bination of  seeing  a  straight  line  and  yet  being  able 
to  turn  a  graceful  curve.  But  even  if  Amos  had  been 
willing  to  allow  him  to  sleep  over  one  of  his  attacks, 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS    257 

it  would  have  been  a  dubious  example  for  Barney, 
and  in  spite  of  the  comfort  he  has  been  I  now  fully 
realize  the  limitations  of  so  many  of  his  race,  at  once 
witty,  warm-hearted,  soothing,  and  impossible;  it 
is  difficult  not  to  believe  what  they  say,  even  when 
you  know  they  are  lying,  and  this  condition  is  equally 
demoralizing  both  to  master  and  man. 

August  ii.  Anastasia  wept  behind  her  apron 
when  Larry  left,  but  Barney  assumed  a  cheerfulness 
and  interest  in  his  work  that  he  has  never  shown  before. 
Bart  says  that  in  spite  of  a  discrepancy  of  twenty-odd 
years  he  thinks  that  Larry,  by  his  fund  of  stories  and 
really  wonderful  jig  dancing,  was  diverting  Anastasia's 
thoughts,  and  the  comfortable  savings  attached,  from 
Barney,  who,  though  doubtless  a  sober  man  and  far 
more  durable  in  many  ways,  is  much  less  interesting 
an  object  for  the  daily  contemplation  of  an  emotional 
Irishwoman. 

While  Bart  was  in  town  yesterday  seeing  Larry 
started  on  his  journey,  Maria  and  I,  with  the  Infant 
tucked  between  in  the  buggy,  went  for  an  outing 
under  the  gentle  guidance  of  Romeo,  who  through 
constant  practice  has  become  the  most  expert  standing 
horse  in  the  county.  I'm  only  afraid  that  his  owners 
on  their  return  may  not  appreciate  this  accomplish- 


258  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ment.  Being  on  what  Maria  calls  "a  hunt  for  an- 
tiques," we  drove  in  the  direction  of  Newham  village, 
which  you  know  is  away  from  railroads  and  has  any 
number  of  old-time  farms.  We  were  not  looking  for 
spinning-wheels  and  andirons,  but  old-fashioned  roses 
and  peonies,  especially  the  early  double  deep  crimson 
variety  that  looks  like  a  great  Jack  rose.  We  located 
a  number  of  these  in  June  and  promised  to  return 
for  our  plunder  in  due  season.  Last  year  I  bought 
some  peony  roots  in  August,  and  they  throve  so  well, 
blooming  this  spring,  that  I  think  it  is  the  best  time 
for  moving  them. 

In  one  of  the  houses  where  we  bought  pink-and- 
white  peonies  the  woman  said  she  had  a  bed,  as  big  as 
the  barn-door,  of  "June"  lilies,  and  that,  as  they  were 
going  to  build  a  hen-house  next  autumn  on  the  spot 
where  they  grew,  she  was  going  to  lift  some  into  one  of 
her  raised  mounds  (an  awful  construction,  being  a 
cross  between  a  gigantic  dirt  pie  and  a  grave),  and  said 
that  I  might  have  all  the  spare  lily  bulbs  that  I  wanted 
if  I  would  give  her  what  she  termed  a  " hatching"  of 
gladiolus  bulbs.  Just  at  present  the  lilies  have  entirely 
disappeared,  and  nothing  but  bare  earth  is  visible,  but 
I  think  from  the  description  that  they  must  be  the  lovely 
Madonna  lilies  of  grandmother's  Virginia  garden  that 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS    259 

made  a  procession  from  the  tea-house  quite  down  to 
the  rose  garden,  like  a  bevy  of  slender  young  girls  in 
confirmation  tirray.  If  so,  they  do  not  take  kindly 
to  handling,  and  I  have  an  indistinct  remembrance 
of  some  rather  unusual  time  of  year  when  it  must  be 
done  if  necessary. 

Please  let  me  know  about  this,  for  I  can  be  of  little 
use  in  the  moving  of  the  evergreens  and  I  want  some- 
thing to  potter  about  in  the  garden.  There  are  two 
places  for  a  lily  bed,  but  I  am  uncertain  which  is  best 
until  I  hear  from  you.  Either  will  have  to  be  thor- 
oughly renovated  hi  the  matter  of  soil,  so  that  I  am 
anxious  to  start  upon  the  right  basis.  One  of  these 
spots  is  in  full  sun,  with  a  slope  toward  the  orchard ; 
in  the  other  the  sun  is  cut  off  after  one  o'clock,  though 
there  are  no  overhanging  branches ;  there  is  also  a  third 
place,  a  squashy  spot  down  in  the  bend  of  the  old  wall. 

On  our  return,  toward  evening,  we  met  The  Man 
from  Everywhere  driving  down  from  the  reservoir 
ground  toward  Opal  Farm,  a  pink- cheeked  young 
fellow  of  about  twenty  sharing  the  road  wagon  with 
him.  As  he  has  again  been  away  for  a  few  days,  we 
drew  up  to  exchange  greetings  and  The  Man  said,  rather 
aside,  "I'm  almost  sorry  that  Larry  fell  from  the  skies 
to  help  out  your  gardening,  for  here  is  a  young  German 


260          THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

who  has  come  from  a  distance,  with  a  note  from  a 
man  I  know  well,  applying  for  work  at  the  quarry; 
but  there  will  be  nothing  suitable  for  him  there  for 
several  months,  for  he's  rather  above  the  average. 
He  would  have  done  very  well  for  you,  as,  though 
he  speaks  little  English,  I  make  out  that  his  father 
was  an  under- forester  in  the  fatherland.  As  it  is, 
I'm  taking  him  to  the  farm  with  me  for  the  night  and 
will  try  to  think  of  how  I  may  help  him  on  in  the 
morning." 

Instantly  both  Maria  and  I  began  to  tell  of  Larry's 
defection  in  different  keys,  the  young  man  meanwhile 
keeping  up  a  deferential  and  most  astonishing  bowing 
and  smiling. 

Having  secured  the  seal  of  Bart's  approval,  Meyer 
has  been  engaged,  and  after  to-day  we  must  accustom 
our  ears  to  a  change  from  Larry's  rich  brogue  to  the 
juicy  explosiveness  of  German;  and  worse  yet,  I  must 
rack  my  brains  for  the  mostly  forgotten  dialect  of  the 
schoolroom  language  that  is  learned  with  such  pain 
and  so  quickly  forgotten. 

I'm  wondering  very  much  about  The  Man's  sudden 
return  to  Opal  Farm  and  if  it  will  interfere  with 
Maria  Maxwell's  daily  care  of  Amos  Opie ;  for,  as  it 
turns  out,  he  is  really  ill,  the  chill  resulting  from  Larry's 


TRANSPLANTING  OF  EVERGREENS    261 

prank  having  been  the  final  straw,  and  no  suitable 
woman  having  been  found,  who  has  volunteered  to 
tend  the  old  man  in  the  emergency,  but  Maria !  That 
is,  to  the  extent  of  taking  him  food  and  giving  him 
medicines,  for  though  in  pain  he  is  able  to  sit  in  an 
easy- chair.  Maria  certainly  is  capable,  but  so  stupid 
about  The  Man.  However,  as  the  farm-house  is  now 
arranged  as  two  dwellings,  with  the  connecting  door 
opening  in  the  back  hall  and  usually  kept  locked  on 
Amos's  side,  she  cannot  possibly  feel  that  she  is  putting 
herself  hi  The  Man's  way ! 


XIII 

LILIES    AND    THEIR    WHIMS 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 
Oaklands,  August  18.  As  a  suitable  text  for  this 
chronicle,  as  well  as  an  unanswerable  argument  for 
its  carrying  out,  combined  with  a  sort  of  premium, 
I'm  sending  you  to-day,  freight  paid,  a  barrel  of  lily- 
of-the-valley  roots,  all  vigorous  and  with  many  next 
year's  flowering  pips  attached. 

No,  —  I  hear  your  decorous  protest,  —  I  have  not 
robbed  myself,  neither  am  I  giving  up  the  growing  of 
this  most  exquisite  of  spring  flowers,  whose  fragrance 
penetrates  the  innermost  fastnesses  of  the  memory, 
yet  is  never  obtrusive.  Simply  my  long  border  was 
full  to  overflowing  and  last  season  some  of  the  lily 
bells  were  growing  smaller.  When  this  happens, 
as  it  does  every  half  a  dozen  years,  I  dig  two  eight- 
inch  trenches  down  the  bed's  entire  length,  and  taking 
out  the  matted  roots,  fill  the  gap  with  rich  soil,  adding 
the  plants  thus  dispossessed  to  my  purse  of  garden 
wampum,  which  this  time  falls  into  your  lap  entire. 
262 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  263 

Of  the  treatment  of  the  little  flower,  that  is  erroneously 
supposed  to  feast  only  upon  leaf-mould  in  the  deep 
shade,  you  shall  hear  later. 

By  all  means  begin  your  lily  bed  now,  for  the  one 
season  at  which  the  Madonna  lily  resents  removal 
the  least  is  during  the  August  resting  time.  Then, 
if  you  lift  her  gently  while  she  sleeps,  do  not  let  the 
cool  earth  breath  that  surrounds  her  dry  away,  and 
bed  her  suitably,  she  will  awaken  and  in  a  month  put 
forth  a  leafy  crown  of  promise  to  be  fulfilled  next 
June.  Madonna  does  not  like  the  shifting  and  lift- 
ing that  falls  to  the  lot  of  so  many  garden  bulbs  owing 
to  the  modern  requirements  that  make  a  single  flower 
bed  often  a  thing  of  three  seasonal  changes.  Many 
bulbs,  many  moods  and  whims.  Hyacinths  and  early 
tulips  blossom  their  best  the  first  spring  after  their 
autumn  planting  (always  supposing  that  the  bob- 
tailed  meadow-mice,  who  travel  in  the  mole  tunnels, 
thereby  giving  them  a  bad  reputation,  have  not  feasted 
on  the  tender  heart  buds  in  the  interval). 

The  auratum  lily  of  the  gorgeous  gold- banded  and 
ruby-studded  flower  exults  smilingly  for  a  season  or 
two  and  then  degenerates  sadly. 

Madonna,  if  she  be  healthy  on  her  coming,  and  is 
given  healthy  soil  free  from  hot  taint  of  manure,  will 


264  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

live  with  you  for  years  and  love  you  and  give  you  every 
season  increasing  yield  of  silver-white-crowned  stalks, 
at  the  very  time  that  you  need  them  to  blend  with 
your  royal  blue  delphiniums.  But  this  will  be  only 
if  you  obey  the  warning  of  "hands  and  spade  off." 

The  three  species  of  the  well-known  recurved  Japan 
lily  —  speciosum  roseum,  s.  rubrum,  and  s.  album — 
have  the  same  love  of  permanence ;  likewise  the  lily- 
of-the-valley  and  all  the  tribe  of  border  narcissi  and 
daffodils ;  so  if  you  wish  to  keep  them  at  their  best,  you 
must  not  only  give  them  bits  of  ground  all  of  their 
own,  but  study  their  individual  needs  and  idiosyn- 
crasies. 

Lilies  as  a  comprehensive  term,  —  the  Biblical 
grass  of  the  field,  —  as  far  as  concerns  a  novice  or  the 
Garden,  You,  and  I,  may  be  made  to  cover  the  typical 
lilies  themselves,  tulips,  narcissi  (which  are  of  the 
amaryllis  flock),  and  lilies-of-the-valley,  a  tribe  by 
itself.  You  will  wish  to  include  all  of  them  in  your 
garden,  but  you  must  limit  yourself  to  the  least  whim- 
sical varieties  on  account  of  your  purse,  the  labor 
entailed,  and  the  climate. 

Of  the  pieces  of  ground  that  you  describe,  take 
that  in  partial  shade  for  your  Madonna  lilies  and  their 
kin,  and  that  hi  the  open  sun  for  your  lilies-of-the- 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  265 

valley,  while  I  would  keep  an  earth  border  free  from 
silver  birches,  on  the  sunny  side  of  your  tumble-down 
stone- wall  rockery,  for  late  tulips  and  narcissi;  and 
grape  hyacinths,  scillas,  trilliums,  the  various  Solo- 
mon's seals,  bellworts,  etc.,  can  be  introduced  in 
earth  pockets  between  the  rocks  if,  in  case  of  the 
deeper-rooted  kinds,  connection  be  had  with  the  earth 
below. 

It  is  much  more  satisfactory  to  plant  spring  bulbs 
in  this  way,  —  in  groups,  or  irregular  lines  and  masses, 
where  they  may  bloom  according  to  their  own  sweet 
will,  and  when  they  vanish  for  the  summer  rest,  scat- 
ter a  little  portulaca  or  sweet  alyssum  seed  upon  the 
soil  to  prevent  too  great  bareness,  —  than  to  set  them  in 
formal  beds,  from  which  they  must  either  be  removed 
when  their  blooming  time  is  past,  or  else  one  runs  the 
risk  of  spoiling  them  by  planting  deep-rooted  plants 
among  them. 

The  piece  of  sunny  ground  in  the  angled  dip  of  the 
old  wall,  which  you  call  "decidedly  squashy,"  inter- 
ests me  greatly,  for  it  seems  the  very  place  for  Iris  of 
the  Japanese  type,  —  lilies  that  are  not  lilies  in  the  exact 
sense,  except  by  virtue  of  being  built  on  the  rule  of 
three  and  having  grasslike  or  parallel- veined  leaves. 
But  these  closely  allied  plant  families  and  their  differ- 


266  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

ences  are  a  complex  subject  that  we  need  not  discuss, 
the  whole  matter  being  something  akin  to  one  of  the 
dear  old  Punch  stories  that  adorn  Evan's  patriotic 
scrap-book. 

A  railway  porter,  puzzled  as  in  what  class  of  freight 
an  immense  tortoise  shall  be  placed,  as  dogs  are  the 
only  recognized  standard,  pauses,  gazing  at  it  as 
he  scratches  his  head,  and  mutters,  "Cats  is  dogs 
and  rabbits  is  dogs,  but  this  'ere  hanimal's  a  hin- 
sect!"  The  Iris  may  be,  in  this  respect,  a  "hinsect," 
but  we  will  reckon  it  in  with  the  lilies. 

The  culture  of  this  Japan  Iris  is  very  simple  and 
well  worth  while,  for  the  species  comes  into  bloom  in 
late  June  and  early  July,  when  the  German  and  other 
kinds  are  through.  I  should  dig  the  wet  soil  from 
the  spot  of  which  you  speak,  for  all  muck  is  not  good 
for  this  Iris,  and  after  mixing  it  with  some  good  loam 
and  well- rotted  cow  manure  replace  it  and  plant  the 
clumps  of  Iris  two  feet  apart,  for  they  will  spread 
wonderfully.  In  late  autumn  they  should  have  a 
top  dressing  of  manure  and  a  covering  of  corn  stalks, 
but,  mind,  water  must  not  stand  on  your  Iris  bed  in  win- 
ter; treating  them  as  hardy  plants  does  not  war- 
rant their  being  plunged  into  water  ice.  It  is  almost 
impossible,  however,  to  give  them  too  much  water  in 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  267 

June  and  July,  when  the  great  flowers  of  rainbow 
hues,  spreading  to  a  size  that  covers  two  open  hands, 
cry  for  drink  to  sustain  the  exhaustion  of  their  mar- 
vellous growth.  So  if  your  "squashy  spot"  is  made 
so  by  spring  rains,  all  is  well ;  if  not,  it  must  be  drained 
in  some  easy  way,  like  running  a  length  of  clay  pipe 
beneath,  so  that  the  overplus  of  water  will  flow  off  when 
the  Iris  growth  cannot  absorb  it. 

Ah  me !  the  very  mention  of  this  flower  calls  up 
endless  visions  of  beauty.  Iris  —  the  flower  of  my- 
thology, history,  and  one  might  almost  say  science  as 
well,  since  its  outline  points  to  the  north  on  the  face 
of  the  mariner's  compass;  the  flower  that  in  the 
dawn  of  recorded  beauty  antedates  the  rose,  the  frag- 
ments of  the  scattered  rainbow  of  creation  that  rests 
upon  the  garden,  not  for  a  single  hour  or  day  or  week, 
but  for  a  long  season.  The  early  bulbous  Iris  his- 
triodes  begins  the  season  in  March,  and  the  Persian 
Iris  follows  in  April.  In  May  comes  the  sturdy  Ger- 
man Iris  of  old  gardens,  of  few  species  but  every  one 
worthy,  and  to  be  relied  upon  in  mass  of  bloom  and 
sturdy  leafage  to  rival  even  the  peony  in  decorative 
effect.  Next  the  meadows  are  ribboned  by  our  own 
blue  flags;  and  the  English  Iris  follows  and  in  June 
and  July  meets  the  sumptuous  Iris  of  Japan  at  its 


268  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

blooming  season,  for  there  seems  to  be  no  country  so 
poor  as  to  be  without  an  Iris. 

There  are  joyous  flowers  of  gold  and  royal  blue, 
the  Flower  de  Luce  (Flower  of  Louis)  of  regal  France, 
and  sombre  flowers  draped  in  deep  green  and  black 
and  dusky  purple,  "The  widow"  (Iris  tuberosa)  and 
the  Chalcedonian  Iris  (Iris  Susiana),  taking  its  name 
from  the  Persian  Susa.  Iris  Florentina  by  its  powdered 
root  yields  the  delicate  violet  perfume  orris,  a  corrup- 
tion doubtless  of  Iris. 

Many  forms  of  root  as  well  as  blossom  has  the  Iris, 
tuberous,  bulbous,  fibrous,  and  if  the  rose  may  have 
a  garden  to  itself,  why  may  not  the  Iris  in  combina- 
tion with  its  sister  lilies  have  one  also?  And  when 
my  eyes  rest  upon  a  bed  of  these  flowers  or  upon  a 
single  blossom,  I  long  to  be  a  poet. 

*****  *  * 

Now  to  begin :  will  your  shady  place  yield  you  a  bed 
four  feet  in  width  by  at  least  twenty  in  length?  If 
so,  set  Barney  to  work  with  pick  and  spade.  The 
top,  I  take  it,  is  old  turf  not  good  enough  to  use 'for 
edging,  so  after  removing  this  have  it  broken  into 
bits  and  put  in  a  heap  by  itself.  When  the  earth 
beneath  is  loosened,  examine  it  carefully.  If  it  is 
good  old  mellow  loam  without  the  pale  yellow  colour 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  269 

that  denotes  the  sterile,  undigested  soil  unworked  by 
roots  or  earthworms,  have  it  taken  out  to  eighteen 
inches  in  deptn  and  shovelled  to  one  side.  When  the 
bad  soil  is  reached,  which  will  be  soon,  have  it  removed 
so  that  the  pit  will  be  three  feet  below  the  level. 

Next,  let  Barney  collect  any  old  broken  bits  of 
flower-pots,  cobbles,  or  small  stones  of  any  kind,  and 
fill  up  the  hole  for  a  foot,  and  let  the  broken  turf  come 
on  top  of  this.  If  possible,  beg  or  buy  of  Amos  Opie 
a  couple  of  good  loads  of  the  soil  from  the  meadow 
bottom  where  the  red  bell-lilies  grow,  and  mix  this 
with  the  good  loam,  together  with  a  scattering  of  bone, 
before  replacing  it.  The  bed  should  not  only  be  full, 
but  well  rounded.  Grade  it  nicely  with  a  rake  and 
wait  a  week  or  until  rain  has  settled  it  before  plant- 
ing. When  setting  these  lilies,  let  there  be  six  inches 
of  soil  above  the  bulb,  and  sprinkle  the  hole  into  which 
it  goes  with  fresh-water  sand  mixed  with  powdered 
sulphur. 

This  bed  will  be  quite  large  enough  for  a  beginning 
and  will  allow  you  four  rows  of  twenty  bulbs  in  a  row, 
with  room  for  them  to  spread  naturally  into  a  close 
mass,  if  so  desired.  Or  better  yet,  do  not  put  them  in 
stiff  rows,  but  in  groups,  alternating  the  early-flowering 
with  the  late  varieties.  A  row  of  German  Iris  at  the 


270  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

back  of  this  bed  will  give  solidity  and  the  sturdy  foliage 
make  an  excellent  windbreak  in  the  blooming  season. 
If  your  friendly  woman  in  the  back  country  will  give 
you  two  dozen  of  the  Madonna  lily  bulbs,  group  them 
in  fours,  leaving  a  short  stake  in  the  middle  of  each 
group  that  you  may  know  its  exact  location,  for  the 
other  lilies  you  cannot  obtain  before  October,  unless 
you  chance  to  find  them  in  the  garden  of  some  near-by 
florist  or  friend.  These  are  — 

Lilium  speciosum  album  —  white  recurved. 

Lilium  speciosum  rubrum  —  spotted  with    ruby- red. 

Lilium  speciosum  roseum  —  spotted  with  rose-pink. 
All  three  flower  in  August  and  September,  rubrum 
being  the  latest,  and  barring  accidents  increase  in  size 
and  beauty  with  each  year. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  of  their  fickleness,  I  would  buy 
a  dozen  or  two  of  the  auratum  lilies,  for  even  if  they 
last  but  for  a  single  year,  they  are  so  splendid  that  we 
can  almost  afford  to  treat  them  as  a  fleeting  spectacle. 
As  the  speciosum  lilies  (I  wish  some  one  would  give 
them  a  more  gracious  name  —  we  call  them  curved- 
shell  lilies  here  among  ourselves)  do  not  finish  flower- 
ing sometimes  until  late  in  September,  the  bulbs  are 
not  ripe  in  time  to  be  sold  through  the  stores,  until 
there  is  danger  of  the  ground  being  frozen  at  night. 


SPECIOSUM  LILIES  IN  THE  SHADE. 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  271 

On  the  other  hand,  if  purchased  in  spring,  unless  the 
bulbs  have  been  wintered  with  the  greatest  care  in 
damp,  not  wet,  peat  moss,  or  sand,  they  become  so 
withered  that  their  vitality  is  seriously  impaired. 
There  are  several  dealers  who  make  a  specialty  of 
thus  wintering  lily  bulbs,1  and  if  you  buy  from  one  of 
these,  I  advise  spring  planting. 

If,  however,  for  any  reason  you  wish  to  finish  your 
bed  this  fall,  after  planting  and  covering  each  bulb, 
press  a  four  or  five  inch  flower-pot  lightly  into  the 
soil  above  it.  This  will  act  as  a  partial  watershed 
to  keep  the  drip  of  rain  or  snow  water  from  settling  in 
the  crown  of  the  bulb  and  decaying  the  bud.  Or  if 
you  have  plenty  of  old  boards  about  the  place,  they 
may  be  put  on  the  bed  and  slightly  raised  in  the  centre, 
like  a  pitched  roof,  so  as  to  form  a  more  complete  water- 
shed, and  the  winter  covering  of  leaves,  salt,  hay,  or 
litter,  free  of  manure,  can  be  built  upon  this.  Cro- 
cuses, snowdrops,  and  scillas  make  a  charming  border 
for  a  lily  bed  and  may  be  also  put  between  the  lilies 
themselves  to  lend  colour  early  in  the  season. 

To  cover  your  bed  thoroughly,  so  that  it  will  keep 
out  cold  and  damp  and  not  shut  it  in,  is  a  must  be  of 
successful  lily  culture.  Have  you  ever  tried  to  grow 

1  F.  H.  Horsford  of  Charlotte,  Vt,  is  very  reliable  in  this  matter. 


272  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

our  hardiest  native  lilies  like  the  red-wood,  Turk's 
cap,  and  Canada  bell-lily  in  an  open  border  where 
the  porous  earth,  rilled  by  ice  crystal,  was  raised  by 
the  frost  to  the  consistency  of  bread  sponge?  I  did 
this  not  many  years  ago  and  the  poor  dears  looked 
pinched  and  woebegone  and  wholly  unlike  their 
sturdy  sisters  of  meadow  and  upland  wood  edges. 
Afterward,  in  trying  to  dig  some  of  these  lilies  from 
their  native  soil,  I  discovered  why  they  were  uncom- 
fortable in  the  open  borders ;  the  Garden,  You,  and  I 
would  have  to  work  mighty  hard  to  find  a  winter 
blanket  for  the  lily  bed  to  match  the  turf  of  wild 
grasses  sometimes  half  a  century  old. 

Many  other  beautiful  and  possible  lilies  there  are 
besides  these  four,  but  these  are  to  be  taken  as  first 
steps  in  lily  lore,  as  it  were ;  for  to  make  anything  like 
a  general  collection  of  this  flower  is  a  matter  of  more 
serious  expense  and  difficulty  than  to  collect  roses, 
owing  to  the  frailness  of  the  material  and  the  different 
climatic  conditions  under  which  the  rarer  species, 
especially  those  from  India  and  the  sea  islands,  origi- 
nated ;  but  given  anything  Japanese  and  a  certain  cos- 
mopolitan intelligence  seems  bred  in  it  that  carries  a 
reasonable  hope  of  success  under  new  conditions. 

We  have  half  a  dozen  species  of  beautiful  native 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  273 

lilies,  but  like  some  of  our  most  exquisite  ferns  they 
depend  much  for  their  attractiveness  upon  the  set- 
ting their  natural  haunts  offer,  and  I  do  not  like  to 
see  them  caged,  as  it  were,  within  strict  garden 
boundaries. 

The  red  wood-lily  should  be  met  among  the  great 
brakes  of  a  sandy  wood  edge,  where  white  leafless 
wands  of  its  cousin,  star-grass,  or  colic  root,  wave 
above  it,  and  the  tall  late  meadow-rue  and  white  an- 
gelica fringe  the  background. 

The  Canada  bell-lily  needs  the  setting  of  meadow 
grasses  to  veil  its  long,  stiff  stalks,  while  the  Turk's-cap 
lily  seems  the  most  at  home  of  all  in  garden  surround- 
ings, but  it  only  gains  its  greatest  size  in  the  deep 
meadows,  where,  without  being  wet,  there  is  a  certain 
moisture  beneath  the  deep  old  turf,  and  this  turf  itself 
not  only  keeps  out  frost,  but  moderates  the  sun's  rays 
in  their  transit  to  the  ground. 

Two  lilies  there  are  that,  escaping  from  gardens, 
in  many  places  have  become  half  wild  —  the  brick- 
red,  black- spotted  tiger  lily  with  recurved  flowerets, 
after  the  shape  of  the  Japanese  roseum,  rubrum,  and 
album,  being  also  a  native  of  Japan  and  China,  and 
the  tawny  orange  day  lily,  that  is  found  in  masses 
about  old  cellars  and  waysides,  with  its  tubular  flowers, 


274  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

held  on  leafless  stems,  springing  from  a  matted  bed  of 
leaves.  This  day  lily  (hemerocallis  fulva)  is  sister 
to  the  familiar  and  showy  lemon  lily  of  old  gardens 
(hemerocallis  flava).  If  you  have  plenty  of  room  by 
your  wall,  I  should  lodge  a  few  good  bunches  by  it 
when  you  find  some  in  a  location  where  digging  is 
possible.  It  is  a  decorative  flower,  but  hardly  worthy 
of  good  garden  soil.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
tiger  lily,  on  account  of  the  very  inharmonious  shade 
of  red  it  wears ;  yet  if  you  have  a  half- wild  nook,  some- 
where that  a  dozen  bulbs  of  it  may  be  tucked  in  com- 
pany with  a  bunch  of  the  common  tall  white  phlox 
that  flowers  at  the  same  time,  you  will  have  a  bit  of 
colour  that  will  care  for  itself. 

The  lemon  lily  should  have  a  place  in  the  hardy 
border  well  toward  the  front  row  and  be  given  enough 
room  to  spread  into  a  comfortable  circle  after  the 
manner  of  the  white  plantain  lily  (Funkia  subcordatd). 
This  last  lily,  another  of  Japan's  contributions  to  the 
hardy  garden,  blooms  from  August  until  frost  and 
unlike  most  of  the  lily  tribe  is  pleased  if  well-rotted 
manure  is  deeply  dug  into  its  resting-place. 

As  with  humanity  the  high  and  lowly  born  are  sub- 
ject to  the  same  diseases,  so  is  it  with  the  lily  tribe, 
and  because  you  choose  the  sturdiest  and  consequently 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  275 

least  expensive  species  for  your  garden,  do  not  think 
that  you  may  relax  your  vigilance. 

There  is  a  form  of  fungous  mould  that  attacks  the 
bulbs  of  lilies  without  rhyme  or  reason  and  is  the  in- 
sidious tuberculosis  of  the  race.  Botrytis  cinerea  is 
its  name  and  it  seizes  upon  stalk  and  leaves  in  the  form 
of  spots  that  are  at  first  yellow  and  then  deepen  in 
colour,  until  finally,  having  sapped  the  vitality  of  the 
plant,  it  succumbs. 

Cold,  damp,  insufficient  protection  hi  winter,  all 
serve  to  render  the  lily  liable  to  its  attacks,  but  the 
general  opinion  among  the  wise  is  that  the  universal 
overstimulation  of  lilies  by  fertilizers  during  late 
years,  especially  of  the  white  lilies  used  for  church 
and  other  decorative  purposes,  has  undermined  the 
racial  constitution  and  made  it  prone  to  attacks  of 
the  enemy.  Therefore,  if  you  please,  Mary  Penrose, 
sweet  soil,  sulphur,  sand,  and  good  winter  covering, 
if  you  would  not  have  your  lily  bed  a  consumptives' 
hospital ! 

Some  lilies  are  also  susceptible  to  sunstroke.  When 
growing  hi  the  full  light  and  heat  of  the  sun,  and  the 
buds  are  ready  to  open,  suddenly  the  flowers,  leaves, 
and  entire  stalk  will  wither,  as  when  in  spring  a  tulip 
collapses  and  we  find  that  a  meadow-mouse  has  nipped 


276  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

it  in  the  core.  But  with  the  lily  the  blight  comes  from 
above,  and  the  only  remedy  is  to  plant  in  half  shade. 

On  the  other  hand  the  whims  of  the  flower  require 
that  this  be  done  carefully,  for  if  the  scorching  sun  is 
an  evil,  a  soaking,  sopping  rain,  coming  at  the  height 
of  the  blooming  season  and  dripping  from  over- 
hanging boughs,  is  equally  so.  The  gold-and-copper 
pollen  turns  to  rusty  tears  that  mar  the  petals  of  satin 
ivory  or  inlaid  enamel,  and  a  sickly  transparency 
that  bodes  death  comes  to  the  crisp,  translucent  flower ! 

"What  a  pother  for  a  bed  of  flowers!"  I  hear  you 
say,  "draining,  subsoiling,  sulphuring,  sanding,  cov- 
ering, humouring,  and  then  sunstroke  or  consump- 
tion at  the  end!"  So  be  it,  but  when  success  does 
come,  it  is  something  worth  while,  for  to  be  success- 
ful with  these  lilies  is  "aiming  the  star"  in  garden 
experience. 

The  plantain  lilies  and  hemerocallis  seem  free  from 
all  of  these  whims  and  diseases,  but  it  is  when  we 
come  to  the  lily-of-the-valley  that  we  have  the  compen- 
sation for  our  tribulations  with  the  royal  lilies  of  pure 
blood. 

The  lily-of-the-valley  asks  deep,  very  rich  soil  in 
the  open  sun;  if  a  wall  or  hedge  protects  it  from  the 
north,  so  much  the  better.  I  do  not  know  why  people 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  277 

preach  dense  shade  for  this  flower;  possibly  because 
they  prefer  leaves  to  flowers,  or  else  that  they  are  of 
the  sheeplike  followers  of  tradition  instead  of  prac- 
tical gardeners  of  personal  experience.  One  thing 
grows  to  perfection  in  the  garden  of  this  commuter's 
wife,  and  that  is  lilies-of-the-valley,  and  shade  knows 
them  not  between  eight  in  the  morning  and  five  at 
night,  and  we  pick  and  pick  steadily  for  two  weeks, 
for  as  the  main  bed  gives  out,  there  are  strips  here  and 
there  in  cooler  locations  that  retard  the  early  growth, 
but  never  any  overhanging  branches. 

In  starting  a  wholly  new  bed,  as  you  are  doing,  it 
is  best  to  separate  the  tangled  roots  into  small  bunches, 
seeing  to  it  that  a  few  buds  or,  "pips"  remain  with 
each,  and  plant  in  long  rows  a  foot  apart,  three  rows 
to  a  four-foot  bed.  Be  sure  to  bury  a  well-tarred  plank 
a  foot  in  width  edgewise  at  the  outer  side  of  the  bed, 
unless  you  wish,  in  a  couple  of  years'  time,  to  have  this 
enterprising  flower  walk  out  and  about  the  surrounding 
garden  and  take  it  for  its  own.  Be  sure  to  press  the 
roots  in  thoroughly  and  cover  with  three  inches  of 
soil. 

In  December  cover  the  bed  with  rotten  cow  manure 
for  several  inches  and  rake  off  the  coarser  part  in  April, 
taking  care  not  to  break  the  pointed  "pips"  that  will 


278  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

be  starting,  and  you  will  have  a  forest  of  cool  green 
leaves  and  such  flowers  as  it  takes  much  money  to 
buy.  Not  the  first  season,  of  course,  but  after  that  — 
forever,  if  you  thin  out  and  fertilize  properly. 

In  the  back  part  of  your  lily-of-the-valley  bed  plant 
two  or  three  rows  of  the  lovely  poets'  narcissus  (poeti- 
cus).  It  opens  its  white  flowers  of  the  "pheasant's 
eye"  cup  at  the  same  time  as  the  lilies  bloom,  it  grows 
sufficiently  tall  to  make  a  good  upward  gradation, 
and  it  likes  to  be  let  severely  alone.  But  do  not  for- 
get in  covering  in  the  fall  to  put  leaves  over  the 
narcissi  instead  of  manure.  Of  other  daffodils  and 
narcissi  that  I  have  found  very  satisfactory,  besides  the 
good  mixtures  offered  by  reliable  houses  at  only  a  dollar 
or  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  hundred  (the  poets'  nar- 
cissi only  costing  eighty  cents  a  hundred  for  good 
bulbs),  are  Trumpet  Major,  Incomparabilis,  the  old- 
fashioned  "daffy,"  and  the  monster  yellow  trumpet 
narcissus,  Van  Sion. 

The  polyanthus  narcissi,  carrying  their  many  flowers 
in  heads  at  the  top  of  the  stalk,  are  what  is  termed 
half  hardy  and  they  are  more  frequently  seen  in  flo- 
rists' windows  than  in  gardens.  I  have  found  them 
hardy  if  planted  in  a  sheltered  spot,  covered  with 
slanted  boards  and  leaves,  which  should  not  be  removed 


THE  POET'S  NARCISSUS. 


LILIES  AND  THEIR  WHIMS  279 

before  April,  as  the  spring  rain  and  winds,  I  am  con- 
vinced, do  more  to  kill  the  species  than  winter  cold. 
The  flowers  are  heavily  fragrant,  like  gardenias,  and 
are  almost  too  sweet  for  the  house ;  but  they,  together 
with  violets,  give  the  garden  the  opulence  of  odour 
before  the  lilacs  are  open,  or  the  heliotropes  that  are 
to  be  perfumers-in-chief  in  summer  have  graduated 
from  thumb  pots  in  the  forcing  houses. 

Unless  one  has  a  large  garden  and  a  gardener  who 
can  plant  and  tend  parterres  of  spring  colour,  I  do 
not  set  much  value  upon  outdoor  hyacinths;  they 
must  be  lifted  each  year  and  often  replaced,  as  the 
large  bulbs  soon  divide  into  several  smaller  ones  with 
the  flowers  proportionately  diminished.  To  me  their 
mission  is,  to  be  grown  in  pots,  shallow  pans,  or  glasses 
on  the  window  ledge,  for  winter  and  spring  comfort- 
ers, and  I  use  the  early  tulips  much  in  the  same  way, 
except  for  a  cheerful  line  of  them,  planted  about  the 
foundation  of  the  house,  that  when  in  bloom  seems  lit- 
erally to  lift  home  upon  the  spring  wings  of  resurrection  ! 

All  my  tulip  enthusiasm  is  centred  in  the  late 
varieties,  and  chief  among  these  come  the  fascinating 
and  fantastic  "parrots." 

When  next  I  have  my  garden  savings-bank  well 
filled,  I  am  going  to  make  a  collection  of  these  tulips 


28o  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  guard  them  in  a  bed  underlaid  with  stout -meshed 
wire  netting,  so  that  no  mole  may  leave  a  tunnel  for 
the  wicked  tulip-eating  meadow-mouse. 

It  is  these  late  May-flowering  tulips  of  long  stalks, 
like  wands  of  tall  perennials,  that  you  can  gather  in 
your  arms  and  arrange  in  your  largest  jars  with  a 
sense  at  once  combined  of  luxury  and  artistic  joy. 

Better  begin  as  I  did  by  buying  them  in  mixture; 
the  species  you  must  choose  are  the  bizarre,  bybloems, 
parrots,  breeders,  Darwin  tulips,  and  the  rose  and 
white,  together  with  a  general  mixture  of  late  singles. 
Five  dollars  will  buy  you  fifty  of  each  of  the  seven 
kinds,  three  hundred  and  fifty  bulbs  all  told  and  enough 
for  a  fine  display.  The  Darwin  tulips  yield  beautiful 
shades  of  violet,  carmine,  scarlet,  and  brown;  the 
bizarres,  many  curious  effects  in  stripes  and  flakes; 
the  rose  and  white,  delicate  frettings  and  margins  of 
pink  on  a  white  ground ;  but  the  parrots  have  petals 
fringed,  twisted,  beaked,  poised  curiously  upon 
the  stalks,  splashed  with  reds,  yellows,  and  green, 
and  to  come  suddenly  upon  a  mass  of  them  in  the 
garden  is  to  think  for  a  brief  moment  that  a  group 
of  unknown  birds  blown  from  the  tropics  in  a  forced 
migration  have  alighted  for  rest  upon  the  bending 
tulip  stalks. 


XIV 
FRAGRANT    FLOWERS    AND    LEAVES 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 
Woodridge,  August  26.  The  heliotrope  is  in  the 
perfection  of  bloom  and  seems  to  draw  perfume  from 
the  intense  heat  of  the  August  days  only  to  release  it 
again  as  the  sun  sets,  while  as  long  as  daylight  lasts 
butterflies  of  all  sizes,  shapes,  and  colours  are  flutter- 
ing about  the  flowers  until  the  bed  is  like  the  transfor- 
mation scene  of  a  veritable  dance  of  fairies ! 

Possibly  you  did  not  know  that  I  have  a  heliotrope 
bed  planted  at  the  very  last  moment.  I  had  never 
before  seen  a  great  mass  of  heliotrope  growing  all 
by  itself  until  I  visited  your  garden,  and  ever  since 
I  have  wondered  why  more  people  have  not  discov- 
ered it.  I  think  that  I  wrote  you  anent  hens  that 
the  ancient  fowl-house  of  the  place  had  been  at  the 
point  where  there  was  a  gap  in  the  old  wall  below  the 
knoll,  and  that  the  wind  swept  up  through  it  from 
the  river,  across  the  Opal  Farm  meadows,  and  into 
the  windows  of  the  dining  room  ?  The  most  impossible 
281 


282  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

place  for  a  fowl-house,  but  exactly  the  location,  as  The 
Man  from  Everywhere  suggested,  for  a  bed  of  sweet 
odours. 

I  expected  to  do  nothing  with  it  this  season  until 
one  day  Larry,  the  departed,  in  a  desire  to  use  some 
of  the  domestic  guano  with  which  the  rough  cellar 
of  the  old  building  was  filled,  carted  away  part  of  it, 
and  supplying  its  place  with  loam,  dug  over  and 
straightened  out  the  irregular  space,  which  is  quite 
six  feet  wide  by  thirty  long. 

The  same  day,  on  going  to  a  near-by  florist's  for 
celery  plants,  I  found  that  he  had  a  quantity  of  little 
heliotropes  in  excess  of  his  needs,  that  had  remained 
unpotted  hi  the  sand  of  the  cutting  house,  where  they 
had  spindled  into  sickly-looking  weeds.  In  a  mo- 
ment of  the  horticultural  gambling  that  will  seize  one, 
I  offered  him  a  dollar  for  the  lot,  which  he  accepted 
readily,  for  it  was  the  last  of  June  and  the  poor 
things  would  probably  have  been  thrown  out  in  a  day 
or  two. 

I  took  them  home  and  spent  a  whole  morning  in 
separating  and  cutting  off  the  spindling  tops  to  an 
even  length  of  six  inches.  Literally  there  seemed  to 
be  no  end  to  the  plants,  and  when  I  counted  them  I 
found  that  I  had  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  heliotropes, 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    283 

which,  after  rejecting  the  absolutely  hopeless,  gave 
me  six  rows  for  the  bed. 

For  several  weeks  my  speculation  in  heliotropes 
was  a  subject  of  much  mirth  between  Bart  and  my- 
self, and  the  place  was  anything  but  a  bed  of  sweet 
odours !  The  poor  things  lost  the  few  leaves  they  had 
possessed  and  really  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  all  the  departed  chickens 
that  had  gone  from  the  fowl-house  to  the  block. 
Then  we  had  some  wet  weather,  followed  by  growing 
summer  heat,  and  I  did  not  visit  the  bed  for  perhaps 
a  week  or  more,  when  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and  pinched 
myself ;  for  it  was  completely  covered  with  a  mass  of 
vigorous  green,  riotous  in  its  profusion,  here  and 
there  showing  flower  buds,  and  ever  since  it  is  one  of 
the  places  to  which  I  go  to  feast  my  eyes  and  nose 
when  in  need  of  garden  encouragement!  Another 
year  I  shall  plant  the  heliotrope  in  one  of  the  short 
cross-walk  borders  of  the  old  garden,  where  we  may 
also  see  it  from  the  dining  room,  and  use  the  larger 
bed  for  the  more  hardy  sweet  things,  as  I  shall  prob- 
ably never  be  able  to  buy  so  many  heliotrope  plants 
again  for  so  little  money. 

Now  also  I  have  a  definite  plan  for  a  large  border 
of  fragrant  flowers  and  leaves.  I  have  been  on  a 


284  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

journey,  and,  having  spent  three  whole  days  from 
home,  I  am  able  for  once  to  tell  you  something 
instead  of  endlessly  stringing  questions  together. 

We  also  have  been  to  the  Cortrights'  at  Gray  Rocks, 
and  through  a  whiff  of  salt  air,  a  touch  of  friendly 
hands,  much  conversation,  and  a  drive  to  Coningsby 
(a  village  back  from  the  shore  peopled  by  the  de- 
scendants of  seafarers  who,  having  a  little  property, 
have  turned  mildly  to  farming),  we  have  received 
fresh  inspiration. 

You  did  not  overestimate  the  originality  of  the 
Cortrights'  seaside  garden,  and  even  after  your  intimate 
description,  it  contained  several  surprises  in  the  shape 
of  masses  of  the  milkweeds  that  flourish  in  sandy 
soil,  especially  the  dull  pink,  and  the  orange,  about 
which  the  brick-red  monarch  butterflies  were  hover- 
ing in  great  flocks.  Neither  did  you  tell  me  of  the 
thistles  that  flank  the  bayberry  hedge.  I  never  real- 
ized what  a  thing  of  beauty  a  thistle  might  be  when 
encouraged  and  allowed  room  to  develop.  Some 
of  the  plants  of  the  common  deep  purple  thistle,  that 
one  associates  with  the  stunted  growths  of  dusty 
roadsides,  stood  full  five  feet  high,  each  bush  as  clear 
cut  and  erect  as  a  candelabrum  of  fine  metal  work, 
while  another  group  was  composed  of  a  pale  yellow 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    285 

species  with  a  tinge  of  pink  in  the  centre  set  in  very 
handsome  silvery  leaves.  I  had  never  before  seen 
these  yellow  thistles,  but  Lavinia  Cortright  says  that 
they  are  very  plentiful  in  the  dry  ground  back  of  the 
marshes,  where  the  sand  has  been  carried  in  drifts 
both  by  wind  and  tide. 

The  table  and  house  decorations  the  day  that  we 
arrived  were  of  thistles  blended  with  the  deep  yellow 
blossoms  of  the  downy  false  foxglove  or  Gerardia 
and  the  yellow  false  indigo  that  looks  at  a  short  dis- 
tance like  a  dwarf  bush  pea. 

We  drove  to  Coningsby,  as  I  supposed  to  see  some 
gay  little  gardens,  fantastic  to  the  verge  of  awfulness, 
that  had  caught  Aunt  Lavinia's  eye.  In  one  the  earth 
for  the  chief  bed  was  contained  in  a  surf-boat  that 
had  become  unseaworthy  from  age,  and  not  only 
was  it  rilled  to  the  brim,  but  vines  of  every  description 
trailed  over  the  sides. 

A  neighbour  opposite,  probably  a  garden  rival  of 
the  owner  of  the  boat  but  lacking  aquatic  furniture, 
had  utilized  a  single-seated  cutter  which,  painted  blue 
of  the  unmerciful  shade  that  fights  with  everything 
it  approaches,  was  set  on  an  especially  green  bit  of 
side  lawn,  surrounded  by  a  heavy  row  of  conch  shells, 
and  the  box  into  which  the  seat  had  been  turned,  as 


286  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

well  as  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh  itself,  was  filled  with 
a  jumble  of  magenta  petunias  and  flame- coloured 
nasturtiums. 

After  we  had  passed  down  a  village  street  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  long,  bordered  on  either  side  by  floral  com- 
binations of  this  description,  the  sight  began  to  pall, 
and  I  wondered  how  it  was  possible  that  any  flowers 
well  watered  and  cared  for  could  produce  such  a  feel- 
ing of  positive  aversion  as  well  as  eye- strained  fatigue; 
also,  if  this  was  all  that  the  Cortrights  had  driven  us 
many  miles  to  see,  when  it  was  so  much  more  in- 
teresting to  lounge  on  either  of  the  porches  of  their 
own  cottage,  the  one  commanding  the  sea  and  the 
other  the  sand  garden,  the  low  dunes,  and  the  marsh 
meadows. 

"It  is  only  half  a  mile  farther  on,"  said  Aunt  La- 
vinia,  quick  to  feel  that  we  were  becoming  bored,  with- 
out our  having  apparently  given  any  sign  to  that  effect. 

"It!  What  is  it?"  asked  Bart,  while  I,  without 
shame  it  is  confessed,  having  a  ravenous  appetite, 
through  outdoor  living,  hoped  that  it  was  some  quaint 
and  neat  little  inn  that  "refreshed  travellers,"  as  it 
was  expressed  in  old-time  wording. 

"How  singular!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Lavinia;  "I 
thought  I  told  you  last  night  when  we  were  in  the 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    287 

garden  —  well,  it  must  have  been  in  a  dream  instead. 
//  is  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Marchant,  wholly  of  fragrant 
things ;  it  is  on  the  little  cross-road,  beyond  that  strip 
of  woods  up  there,"  and  she  waved  toward  a  slight 
rise  in  the  land  that  was  regarded  as  a  hill  of  consid- 
erable importance  in  this  flat  country. 

"It  does  not  contain  merely  a  single  bed  of  sweet 
odours  like  Barbara's  and  mine,  but  is  a  garden  an 
acre  in  extent,  where  everything  admitted  has  fra- 
grance, either  in  flower  or  leaf.  We  chanced  upon  it 
quite  by  accident,  Martin  and  I,  when  driving  ourselves 
down  from  Oaklands,  across  country,  as  it  were,  to 
Gray  Rocks,  by  keeping  to  shady  lanes,  byways,  and 
pent  roads,  where  it  was  often  necessary  to  take  down 
bars  and  sometimes  verge  on  trespassing  by  going 
through  farmyards  in  order  to  continue  our  way. 

"After  traversing  a  wood  road  of  unusual  beauty, 
where  everything  broken  and  unsightly  had  been 
carefully  removed  that  ferns  and  wild  shrubs 
might  have  full  chance  of  life,  we  came  suddenly 
upon  a  white  picket  gate  covered  by  an  arched  trellis, 
beyond  which  in  the  vista  could  be  seen  a  modest 
house  of  the  real  colonial  time,  set  in  the  midst  of  a 
garden. 

"At  once  we  realized  the  fact  that  the  lane  was  also 


288  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

a  part  of  the  garden  in  that  it  was  evidently  the  daily 
walk  of  some  one  who  loved  nature,  and  we  looked 
about  for  a  way  of  retracing  our  steps.  At  the  same 
moment  two  female  figures  approached  the  gate  from 
the  other  side.  At  the  distance  at  which  we  were  I 
could  only  see  that  one  was  tall  and  slender,  was 
dressed  all  in  pure  white,  and  crowned  by  a  mass  of 
hair  to  match,  while  the  other  woman  was  short  and 
stocky,  and  the  way  in  which  she  opened  the  gate  and 
held  it  back  told  that  whatever  her  age  might  be  she 
was  an  attendant,  though  probably  an  intimate  one. 

"In  another  moment  they  discovered  us,  and  as 
Martin  alighted  from  the  vehicle  to  apologize  for  our 
intrusion  the  tall  figure  immediately  retreated  to  the 
garden,  so  quickly  and  without  apparent  motion  that 
we  were  both  startled,  for  the  way  of  moving  is  pecul- 
iar to  those  whose  feet  do  not  really  tread  the  earth 
after  the  manner  of  their  fellows;  and  before  we  had 
quite  recovered  ourselves  the  stout  woman  had  ad- 
vanced and  we  saw  by  the  pleasant  smile  her  round 
face  wore  that  she  was  not  aggrieved  at  the  intrusion 
but  seemed  pleased  to  meet  human  beings  in  that 
out-of-the-way  place  rather  than  rabbits,  many  of 
which  had  scampered  away  as  we  came  down  the 
lane. 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    289 

"Martin  explained  our  dilemma  and  asked  if  we 
might  gain  the  highway  without  retracing  our  steps. 
The  woman  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said,  '  If  you 
come  through  the  gate  and  turn  sharp  to  the  right, 
you  can  go  out  across  the  apple  orchard  by  taking 
down  a  single  set  of  bars,  only  you'll  have  to  lead  your 
horse,  sir,  for  the  trees  are  set  thick  and  are  heavy 
laden.  I'd  let  you  cross  the  bit  of  grass  to  the  drive 
by  the  back  gate  yonder  but  that  it  would  grieve 
Mrs.  Marchant  to  see  the  turf  so  much  as  pressed 
with  a  wheel;  she'd  feel  and  know  it  somehow,  even 
if  she  didn't  see  it.' 

"'Mrs.  Marchant!  Not  Mrs.  Chester  Marchant?' 
cried  Martin,  while  the  far-away  echo  of  something 
recalled  by  the  name  troubled  the  ears  of  my  memory. 

" '  Yes,  sir,  the  very  same  !  Did  you  know  Dr.  Mar- 
chant,  sir  ?  The  minute  I  laid  eyes  on  you  two  I  thought 
you  were  of  her  kind!'  replied  the  woman,  pointing 
backward  over  her  shoulder  and  settling  herself 
against  the  shaft  and  side  of  Brown  Tom,  the  horse, 
as  if  expecting  and  making  ready  for  a  comfortable 
chat. 

"As  she  stood  thus  I  could  take  a  full  look  at  her 
without  intrusiveness.  Apparently  well  over  sixty 
years  old,  and  her  face  lines  telling  of  many  troubles, 


290  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

yet  she  had  not  a  gray  hair  in  her  head  and  her  poise 
was  of  an  independent  landowner  rather  than  an 
occupier  of  another's  home.  I  also  saw  at  a  glance 
that  whatever  her  present  position  might  be,  she  had 
not  been  born  in  service,  but  was  probably  a  native 
of  local  importance,  who,  for  some  reason  perfectly 
satisfactory  to  herself,  was  'accommodating.' 

'"Dr.  Marchant,  Dr.  Russell,  and  I  were  college 
mates,'  said  Martin,  briefly,  'and  after  he  and  his  son 
died  so  suddenly  I  was  told  that  his  widow  was  men- 
tally ill  and  that  none  could  see  her,  and  later  that  she 
had  died,  or  else  the  wording  was  so  that  I  inferred 
as  much,'  and  the  very  recollection  seemed  to  set  Mar- 
tin dreaming.  And  I  did  not  wonder,  for  there  had 
never  been  a  more  brilliant  and  devoted  couple  than 
Abbie  and  Chester  Marchant,  and  I  still  remember 
the  shock  of  it  when  word  came  that  both  father  and 
son  had  been  killed  by  the  same  runaway  accident, 
though  it  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago. 

'"She  was  ill,  sir,  was  Mrs.  Marchant;  too  ill  to 
see  anybody.  For  a  long  time  she  wouldn't  believe 
that  the  accident  had  happened,  and  when  she  really 
sensed  it,  she  was  as  good  as  dead  for  nigh  five  years. 
One  day  some  of  her  people  came  to  me  —  'twas 
the  year  after  my  own  husband  died  — and  asked 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    291 

if  I  would  take  a  lady  and  her  nurse  here  to  live  with 
me  for  the  summer.  They  told  me  of  her  sickness 
and  how  she  was  always  talking  of  some  cottage  in 
a  garden  of  sweet-smelling  flowers  where  she  had  lived 
one  happy  summer  with  her  husband  and  her  boy, 
and  they  placed  the  house  as  mine. 

"'Her  folks  said  the  doctors  thought  if  she  could 
get  back  here  for  a  time  that  it  might  help  her.  Then 
I  recollected  that  ten  years  before,  when  I  went  up  to 
Maine  to  visit  my  sister,  I'd  rented  the  place,  just  as 
it  stood,  to  folks  of  the  name  of  Marchant,  a  fine  couple 
that  didn't  look  beyond  each  other  unless  'twas  at 
their  son.  In  past  times  my  grandmother  had  an  old- 
country  knack  of  raising  healing  herbs  and  all  sorts 
of  sweet-smelling  things,  along  with  farm  truck,  so 
that  folks  came  from  all  about  to  buy  them  and  doctors 
too,  for  such  things  weren't  sold  so  much  in  shops  in 
those  days  as  they  are  now,  and  so  this  place  came  to 
be  called  the  Herb  Farm.  After  that  it  was  sold  off, 
little  by  little,  until  the  garden,  wood  lane,  and  orchard 
is  about  all  that's  left. 

"  'I  was  lonesome  and  liked  the  idea  of  company, 
and  besides  I  was  none  too  well  fixed ;  yet  I  dreaded  a 
mournful  widow  that  wasn't  all  there  anyway,  accord- 
ing to  what  they  said,  but  I  thought  I'd  try.  Well, 


292  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

sir,  she  come,  and  that  first  week  I  thought  I'd  never 
stand  it,  she  talked  and  wrung  her  hands  so  continual. 
But  one  day  what  do  you  think  happened  ?  I  chanced 
to  pick  a  nosegay,  not  so  much  fine  flowers  perhaps 
as  good-smelling  leaves  and  twigs,  and  put  it  in  a  little 
pitcher  in  her  room. 

'"It  was  like  witchcraft  the  way  it  worked;  the 
smell  of  those  things  seemed  to  creep  over  her  like 
some  drugs  might  and  she  changed.  She  stopped 
moaning  and  went  out  into  the  garden  and  touched 
all  the  posies  with  her  fingers,  as  if  she  was  shaking 
hands,  and  all  of  a  sudden  it  seemed,  by  her  talk, 
as  if  her  dead  were  back  with  her  again ;  and  on  every 
other  point  she's  been  as  clear  and  ladylike  as  pos- 
sible ever  since,  and  from  that  day  she  cast  off  her 
black  clothes  as  if  wearing  'em  was  all  through  a 
mistake. 

"'The  doctors  say  it's  something  to  do  with  the 
'sociation  of  smells,  for  that  season  they  spent  in  my 
cottage  was  the  only  vacation  Dr.  Marchant  had  taken 
in  years,  and  they  say  it  was  the  happiest  time  in 
her  life,  fussing  about  among  my  old-fashioned  posies 
with  him;  and  somehow  in  her  mind  he's  got  fixed 
there  among  those  posies,  and  every  year  she  plants 
more  and  more  of  them,  and  what  friends  of  hers  she 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    293 

ever  speaks  of  she  remembers  by  some  flowers  they 
wore  or  liked. 

"'Well,  as  it  turned  out,  her  trustees  have  bought 
my  place  out  and  fixed  it  over,  and  here  we  live  together, 
I  may  say,  both  fairly  content! 

"  '  Come  in  and  see  her,  won't  you  ?  It'll  do  no  harm. 
Cortright,  did  you  say  your  name  was?'  and  before 
we  could  retreat,  throwing  Brown  Tom's  loose  check- 
rein  across  the  pickets  of  the  gate,  she  led  us  to  where 
the  tall  woman,  dressed  in  pure  white,  stood  under 
the  trees,  a  look  of  perfectly  calm  expectancy  in  the 
wonderful  dark  eyes  that  made  such  a  contrast  to  her 
coils  of  snow-white  hair. 

'"Cortright!  Martin  Cortright,  is  it  not?'  she 
said  immediately,  as  her  companion  spoke  the  sur- 
name. '  And  your  wife  ?  I  had  not  heard  that  you 
were  married,  but  I  remember  you  well,  Lavinia  Dor- 
man,  and  your  city  garden,  and  the  musk-rose  bush 
that  ailed  because  of  having  too  little  sun.  Chester 
will  be  so  sorry  to  miss  you ;  he  is  seldom  at  home  in 
the  mornings,  for  he  takes  long  walks  with  our  son.  He 
is  having  the  first  entire  half  year's  vacation  he  has 
allowed  himself  since  our  marriage.  But  you  will 
always  find  him  in  the  garden  in  the  afternoon;  he 
is  so  fond  of  fragrant  flowers,  and  he  is  making  new 


294  THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

studies  of  herbs  and  such  things,  for  he  believes  that 
in  spite  of  some  great  discoveries  it  will  be  proven 
that  the  old  simples  are  the  most  enduring  medicines.' 

"As  she  spoke  she  was  leading  the  way,  with  that 
peculiar  undulating  progress,  like  a  cloud  blown 
over  the  earth's  surface,  that  I  had  noticed  at  first. 
Then  we  came  out  from  under  the  shade  of  the  trees 
into  the  garden  enclosure  and  I  saw  borders  and  beds, 
but  chiefly  borders,  stretching  and  curving  everywhere, 
screening  all  the  fences,  approaching  the  house,  and 
when  almost  there  retreating  in  graceful  lines  into 
the  shelter  of  the  trees.  The  growth  had  the  luxu- 
rianse  of  a  jungle,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  weedy 
or  awry  about  it,  and  as  the  breeze  blew  toward  us 
the  combination  of  many  odours,  both  pungent  and 
sweet,  was  almost  overpowering. 

"'You  very  seldom  wore  a  buttonhole  flower,  but 
when  you  did  it  was  a  safrano  bud  or  else  a  white  jas- 
mine,' Mrs.  Marchant  said,  wheeling  suddenly  and 
looking  at  Martin  with  a  gaze  that  did  not  stop  where 
he  stood,  but  went  through  and  beyond  him ;  '  it  was 
Dr.  Russell  who  always  wore  a  pink !  See !  I  have 
both  here!'  and  going  up  to  a  tea-rose  bush,  grown 
to  the  size  of  a  shrub  and  lightly  fastened  to  the  side 
of  the  house,  she  gathered  a  few  shell-like  buds  and 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    295 

a  moment  later  pulled  down  a  spray  of  the  jasmine 
vine  that  festooned  a  window,  as  we  see  it  in  England 
but  never  here,  and  carefully  cut  off  a  cluster  of  its 
white  stars  by  aid  of  a  pair  of  the  long,  slender  flower- 
picking  scissors  that  hung  from  her  belt  by  a  ribbon, 
twisted  the  stems  together,  and  placed  them  in  Martin's 
buttonhole  almost  without  touching  it. 

"Having  done  this,  she  seemed  to  forget  us  and 
drifted  away  among  the  flowers,  touching  some  gently 
as  she  passed,  snipping  a  dead  leaf  here  and  arranging 
a  misplaced  branch  there. 

"  We  left  almost  immediately,  but  have  been  there 
many  times  since,  and  though  as  a  whole  the  garden 
is  too  heavily  fragrant,  I  thought  that  it  might  suggest 
possibilities  to  you." 

As  Aunt  Lavinia  paused  we  were  turning  from  the 
main  road  into  the  narrow  but  beautifully  kept  lane 
upon  which  the  Herb  Farm,  as  it  was  still  called, 
was  located,  by  one  of  those  strange  freaks  that  some- 
times induces  people  to  build  in  a  strangely  inaccessible 
spot,  though  quite  near  civilization.  I  know  that  you 
must  have  come  upon  many  such  places  in  your  wan- 
derings. 

Of  course  my  curiosity  was  piqued,  and  I  felt,  be- 
sides, as  if  I  was  about  to  step  into  the  page  of  some 


296  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

strange  psychological  romance,  nor  was  I  disap- 
pointed. 

The  first  thing  that  I  saw  when  we  entered,  was  a 
great  strip  of  heliotrope  that  rivalled  my  own,  and 
opposite  it  an  equal  mass  of  silvery  lavender  crowned 
by  its  own  flowers,  of  the  colour  that  we  so  fre- 
quently use  as  a  term,  but  seldom  correctly.  There 
were  no  flagged  or  gravel  walks,  but  closely  shorn 
grass  paths,  the  width  of  a  lawn-mower,  that  followed 
the  outline  of  the  borders  and  made  grateful  footing. 

Bounding  the  heliotrope  and  lavender  on  one  side 
was  a  large  bed  of  what  I  at  first  thought  were  Mar- 
garet carnations,  of  every  colour  combination  known 
to  the  flower,  but  a  closer  view  showed  that  while  those 
in  the  centre  were  Margarets,  those  of  the  wide  border 
were  of  a  heavier  quality  both  in  build  of  plant,  texture 
of  leaf,  and  flower,  which  was  like  a  compact  green- 
house carnation,  the  edges  of  the  petals  being  very 
smooth  and  round,  while  in  addition  to  many  rich, 
solid  colours  there  were  flowers  of  white-and-yellow 
ground,  edged  and  striped  and  flaked  with  colour, 
and  the  fragrance  delicious  and  reminiscent  of  the 
clove  pinks  of  May. 

Mrs.  Puffin,  the  companion,  could  tell  us  little  about 
them  except  that  the  seed  from  which  they  were 


A  BED  OK  JAPAN  PINKS. 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    297 

raised  came  from  England  and  that,  as  she  put  it,  they 
were  fussy,  troublesome  things,  as  those  sown  one 
season  had  to  be  lifted  and  wintered  in  the  cold  pit 
and  get  just  so  much  air  every  day,  and  be  planted 
out  in  the  border  again  in  April.  Aunt  Lavinia  rec- 
ognized them  as  the  same  border  carnations  over 
which  she  had  raved  when  she  first  saw  them  in 
the  trim  gardens  of  Hampton  Court.  Can  either  you 
or  Evan  tell  me  more  of  them  and  why  we  do  not 
see  them  here?  Before  long  I  shall  go  garden  mad, 
I  fear;  for  after  grooming  the  place  into  a  generally 
decorative  and  floriferous  condition  of  trees,  shrubs, 
vines,  ferns,  etc.,  will  come  the  hunger  for  specialties 
that  if  completely  satisfied  will  necessitate  not  only 
a  rosary,  a  lily  and  wild  garden,  a  garden  —  rather 
than  simply  a  bed  —  of  sweet  odours,  and  lastly  a 
garden  wholly  for  the  family  of  pinks  or  carnations, 
whichever  is  the  senior  title.  I  never  thought  of 
these  last  except  as  a  garden  incident  until  I  saw  their 
possibilities  in  Mrs.  Marchant's  space  of  fragrant 
leaves  and  flowers. 

The  surrounding  fences  were  entirely  concealed  by 
lilacs  and  syringas,  interspersed  with  gigantic  bushes 
of  the  fragrant,  brown-flowered  strawberry  shrub ;  the 
four  gates,  two  toward  the  road,  one  to  the  barn-yard, 


298  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  one  entering  the  .wood  lane,  were  arched 
high  and  covered  by  vines  of  Wisteria,  while  similar 
arches  seemed  to  bring  certain  beds  together  that 
would  have  looked  scattered  and  meaningless  with- 
out them.  In  fact  next  to  the  presence  of  fragrant 
things,  the  artistic  use  of  vines  as  draperies  appealed 
to  me  most. 

The  border  following  the  fence  was  divided,  back 
of  the  house,  by  a  vine- covered  arbour,  on  the  one 
side  of  which  the  medicinal  herbs  and  simples  were 
massed ;  on  the  other  what  might  be  classed  as  decora- 
tive or  garden  flowers,  though  some  of  the  simples, 
such  as  tansy  with  its  clusters  of  golden  buttons,  must 
be  counted  decorative. 

The  plants  were  never  set  in  straight  lines,  but  in 
irregular  groups  that  blended  comfortably  together. 
Mrs.  Marchant  was  not  feeling  well,  Mrs.  Puffin 
said,  and  could  not  come  out,  greatly  to  my  disap- 
pointment ;  but  the  latter  was  only  too  glad  to  do 
the  honours,  and  the  plant  names  slipped  from  her 
tongue  with  the  ease  of  long  familiarity. 

This  patch  of  low  growth  with  small  heads  of  purple 
flowers  was  broad- leaved  English  thyme;  that  next, 
summer  savory,  used  in  cooking,  she  said.  Then 
followed  common  sage  and  its  scarlet- flowered  cousin 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    299 

that  we  know  as  salvia ;  next  came  rue  and  rosemary, 
Ophelia's  flower  of  remembrance,  with  stiff  leaves. 
Little  known  or  grown,  or  rather  capricious  and  ten- 
der here,  I  take  it,  for  I  find  plants  of  it  offered  for 
sale  in  only  one  catalogue.  Marigolds  were  here  also, 
why  I  do  not  know,  as  I  should  think  they  belonged 
with  the  more  showy  flowers;  then  inconspicuous 
pennyroyal  and  several  kinds  of  mints  —  spearmint, 
peppermint,  and  some  great  plants  of  velvet-leaved 
catnip. 

Borage  I  saw  for  the  first  time,  also  coriander 
of  the  aromatic  seeds,  and  a  companion  of  dill  of  vine- 
gar fame;  and  strangely  enough,  in  rotation  of  Bible 
quotation,  cumin  and  rue  came  next. 

Caraway  and  a  feathery  mass  of  fennel  took  me 
back  to  grandmother's  Virginia  garden;  balm  and 
arnica,  especially  when  I  bruised  a  leaf  of  the  latter 
between  my  fingers,  recalled  the  bottle  from  which  I 
soothe  the  Infant's  childish  bumps,  the  odour  of  it 
being  also  strongly  reminiscent  of  my  own  childhood. 

Angelica  spoke  of  the  sweet  candied  stalks,  but  when 
we  reached  a  spot  of  basil,  Martin  Cortright's  tongue 
was  loosed  and  he  began  to  recite  from  Keats ;  and  all 
at  once  I  seemed  to  see  Isabella  sitting  among  the 
shadows  holding  between  her  knees  the  flower-pot  from 


300  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

which  the  strangely  nourished  plant  of  basil  grew  as 
she  watered  it  with  her  tears. 

A  hedge  of  tall  sunflowers,  from  whose  seeds,  Mrs. 
Puffin  said,  a  soothing  and  nourishing  cough  syrup 
may  be  made,  antedating  cod-liver  oil,  replaced  the 
lilacs  on  this  side,  and  with  them  blended  boneset  and 
horehound ;  while  in  a  springy  spot  back  toward  the 
barn-yard  the  long  leaves  of  sweet  flag  or  calamus 
introduced  a  different  class  of  foliage. 

On  the  garden  side  the  border  was  broken  every 
ten  feet  or  so  with  great  shrubs  of  our  lemon  verbena, 
called  lemon  balm  by  Mrs.  Puffin.  It  seemed  impos- 
sible that  such  large,  heavily  wooded  plants  could  be 
lifted  for  winter  protection  in  the  cellar,  yet  such  Mrs. 
Puffin  assured  us  was  the  case.  So  I  shall  grow  mine 
to  this  size  if  possible,  for  what  one  can  do  may  be 
accomplished  by  another,  —  that  is  the  tonic  of  seeing 
other  gardens  than  one's  own.  Between  the  lemon 
verbenas  were  fragrant- leaved  geraniums  of  many 
flavours  —  rose,  nutmeg,  lemon,  and  one  with  a  sharp 
peppermint  odour,  also  a  skeleton-leaved  variety; 
while  a  low-growing  plant  with  oval  leaves  and  half- 
trailing  habit  and  odd  odour,  Mrs.  Puffin  called  apple 
geranium,  though  it  does  not  seem  to  favour  the 
family.  Do  you  know  it? 


FRAGRANT  FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    301 

Bee  balm  in  a  blaze  of  scarlet  made  glowing  colour 
amid  so  much  green,  and  strangely  enough  the  bluish 
lavender  of  the  taller-growing  sister,  wild  bergamot, 
seems  to  harmonize  with  it;  while  farther  down  the 
line  grew  another  member  of  this  brave  family  of  horse- 
mints  with  almost  pink,  irregular  flowers  of  great 
beauty. 

Southernwood  formed  fernlike  masses  here  and 
there;  dwarf  tansy  made  the  edging,  together  with 
the  low,  yellow- flowered  musk,  which  Aunt  Lavinia, 
now  quite  up  in  such  things,  declared  to  be  a  "musk- 
scented  mimulus!"  whatever  that  may  be!  Stocks, 
sweet  sultan,  and  tall  wands  of  evening  primrose 
graded  this  border  up  to  another  shrubbery. 

Of  mignonette  the  garden  boasts  a  half  dozen 
species,  running  from  one  not  more  than  six  inches 
hi  height  with  cinnamon- red  flowers  to  a  tall  variety 
with  pointed  flower  spikes,  something  of  the  shape 
of  the  white  flowers  of  the  clethra  bush  or  wands 
of  Culver's  root  that  grow  along  the  fence  at  Opal 
Farm.  It  is  not  so  fragrant  as  the  common  migno- 
nette, but  would  be  most  graceful  to  arrange  with 
roses  or  sweet  peas.  Aunt  Lavinia  says  that  she 
thinks  that  it  is  sold  under  the  name  of  Miles  spiral 
mignonette. 


302  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Close  to  the  road,  where  the  fence  angle  allows  for 
a  deep  bed  and  the  lilacs  grade  from  the  tall  white 
of  the  height  of  trees  down  to  the  compact  bushes 
of  newer  French  varieties,  lies  the  violet  bed,  now  a 
mass  of  green  leaves  only,  but  by  these  Aunt  Lavinia's 
eye  read  them  out  and  found  here  the  English 
sweet  wild  violet,  as  well  as  the  deep  purple  double 
garden  variety,  the  tiny  white  scented  that  comes 
with  pussy-willows,  the  great  single  pansy  violet  of 
California,  and  the  violets  grown  from  the  Russian 
steppes  that  carpeted  the  ground  under  your  "  mother 
tree." 

From  this  bed  the  lilies-of-the-valley  start  and 
follow  the  entire  length  of  the  front  fence,  as  you 
preach  on  the  sunny  side,  the  fence  itself  being  hidden 
by  a  drapery  of  straw-coloured  and  pink  Chinese  honey- 
suckle that  we  called  at  home  June  honeysuckle,  though 
this  is  covered  with  flower  sprays  in  late  August,  and 
must  be  therefore  a  sort  of  monthly-minded  hybrid, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  hybrid  tea-rose. 

If  I  were  to  tell  of  the  tea-roses  grown  here,  they 
would  fill  a  chronicle  by  itself,  though  only  a  few  of 
the  older  kinds,  such  as  safrano,  bon  silene,  and  perle, 
are  favourites.  Mrs.  Puffin  says  that  some  of  them, 
the  great  shrubs,  are  wintered  out-of-doors,  and  others 


FRAGRANT   FLOWERS  AND  LEAVES    303 

are  lifted,  like  the  lemon  balms,  and  kept  in  the  dry, 
light  cellar  in  tubs. 

But  oh !  Mrs.  Evan,  you  must  go  and  see  Mrs. 
Marchant's  lilies !  They  are  growing  as  freely  as 
weeds  among  the  uncut  grass,  and  blooming  as  pro- 
fusely as  the  bell- lilies  in  Opal  Farm  meadows !  And 
all  the  spring  bulbs  are  also  grown  in  this  grass  that  lies 
between  the  shorn  grass  paths,  and  in  autumn  when 
the  tops  are  dead  and  gone  it  is  carefully  burned 
over  and  the  turf  is  all  the  winter  covering  they  have. 

Does  the  grass  look  ragged  and  unsightly?  No, 
because  I  think  that  it  is  cut  lightly  with  a  scythe  after 
the  spring  bulbs  are  gone  and  that  the  patient  woman, 
whose  life  the  garden  is,  keeps  the  tallest  seeded  grasses 
hand  trimmed  from  between  the  lily  stalks ! 

Ah,  but  how  that  garden  lingers  with  me,  and  the 
single  glimpse  I  caught  of  the  deep  dark  eyes  of  its 
mistress  as  they  looked  out  of  a  vine- clad  window 
toward  the  sky ! 

I  have  made  a  list  of  the  plants  that  are  possible 
for  my  own  permanent  bed  of  fragrant  flowers  and 
leaves,  that  I  may  enjoy  them,  and  that  the  Infant 
may  have  fragrant  memories  to  surround  all  her 
youth  and  bind  her  still  more  closely  to  the  things 
of  outdoor  life. 


304  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

I  chanced  upon  a  verse  of  Bourdillon's  the  other 
day.     Do  you  know  it  ? 

"  Ah !  full  of  purest  influence 

On  human  mind  and  mood, 
Of  holiest  joy  to  human  sense 

Are  river,  field,  and  wood; 
And  better  must  all  childhood  be 
That  knows  a  garden  and  a  tree!  " 


XV 
THE    PINK    FAMILY    OUTDOORS 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 
Oaklands,  September  i.  So  you  have  been  away 
and  in  going  discovered  the  possibilities  of  growing 
certain  pinks  and  carnations  out-of-doors  that,  in 
America  at  least,  are  usually  considered  the  winter 
specialties  of  a  cool  greenhouse! 

We  too  have  been  afield  somewhat,  having  but 
now  returned  from  a  driving  trip  of  ten  days,  nicely 
timed  as  to  gardens  and  resting-places  until  the  last 
night,  when,  making  a  false  turn,  ten  o'clock  found 
us  we  did  not  know  where  and  with  no  prospect  of 
getting  our  bearings. 

We  had  ample  provisions  for  supper  with  us,  includ- 
ing two  bottles  of  ginger  ale ;  no  one  knew  that  we  were 
lost  but  ourselves  and  no  one  was  expecting  us  any- 
where, as  we  travel  quite  con  amore  on  these  little 
near-by  journeys  of  ours.  The  August  moon  was  big 
and  hot  and  late  in  rising ;  there  was  a  rick  of  old  hay 
in  a  clean-looking  field  by  the  roadside  that  had 
x  3°5 


306  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

evidently  been  used  as  winter  fodder  for  young  cattle, 
for  what  remained  of  it  was  nibbled  about  the  base, 
leaving  a  protruding,  umbrella-like  thatch,  not  very 
substantial,  but  sufficient  shelter  for  a  still  night.  Then 
and  there  we  decided  to  play  gypsy  and  camp  out, 
literally  under  the  sky.  Evan  unharnessed  the 
horse,  watered  him  at  a  convenient  roadside  puddle, 
and  tethered  him  at  the  rear  of  the  stack,  where  he 
could  nibble  the  hay,  but  not  us!  Then  spreading 
the  horse-blanket  on  some  loose  hay  for  a  bed,  with 
the  well- tufted  seat  of  the  buggy  for  a  pillow,  and 
utilizing  the  lap  robe  for  a  cover  against  dew,  we 
fell  heavily  asleep,  though  I  had  all  the  time  a  half- 
conscious  feeling  as  if  little  creatures  were  scrambling 
about  in  the  hay  beneath  the  blanket  and  occasionally 
brushing  my  face  or  ears  with  a  batlike  wing,  tiny 
paws,  or  whisking  tail.  When  I  awoke,  and  of  course 
immediately  stirred  up  Evan,  the  moon  was  low  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stack,  the  stars  were  hidden, 
and  there  was  a  dull  red  glow  among  the  heavy  clouds 
of  the  eastern  horizon  like  the  reflection  of  a  distant 
fire,  while  an  owl  hooted  close  by  from  a  tree  and  then 
flew  with  a  lurch  across  the  meadow,  evidently  to  the 
destruction  of  some  small  creature,  for  a  squeal  accom- 
panied the  swoop.  A  mysterious  thing,  this  flight 


THE   PINK   FAMILY  OUTDOORS       307 

of  the  owl :  the  wings  did  not  flap,  there  was  no  sound, 
merely  the  consciousness  of  displaced  air. 

We  were  not,  as  it  afterward  proved,  ten  miles  from 
home,  and  yet,  as  far  as  trace  of  humanity  was  con- 
cerned, we  might  have  been  the  only  created  man  and 
woman. 

Do  you  remember  the  old  gypsy  song  ?  —  Ben  Jon- 
son's,  I  think  — 

"  The  owl  is  abroad,  the  bat,  the  toad, 
And  so  is  the  cat-a -mountain ; 
The  ant  and  the  mole  both  sit  in  a  hole, 
And  frog  peeps  out  o'  the  fountain ; 

The  dogs  they  bay  and  the  timbrels  play 
And  the  spindle  now  is  turning; 
The  moon  it  is  red,  and  the  stars  are  fled 

But  all  the  sky  is  a-burning." 

But  we  were  still  more  remote,  for  of  beaters  of  tim- 
brels and  turners  of  spindles  were  there  none! 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Your  last  chronicle  interested  us  all.  In  the  first 
place  father  remembers  Mrs.  Marchant  perfectly, 
for  he  and  the  doctor  used  to  exchange  visits  con- 
stantly during  that  long-ago  summer  when  they  lived 
on  the  old  Herb  Farm  at  Coningsby.  Father  had 
heard  that  she  was  hopelessly  deranged,  but  nothing 


308  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

further,  and  the  fact  that  she  is  living  within  driving 
distance  in  the  midst  of  her  garden  of  fragrance  is 
a  striking  illustration  both  of  the  littleness  of  the  earth 
and  the  social  remoteness  of  its  inhabitants. 

Father  says  that  Mrs.  Marchant  was  always  a  very 
intellectual  woman,  and  he  remembers  that  in  the  old 
days  she  had  almost  a  passion  for  fragrant  flowers, 
and  once  wrote  an  essay  upon  the  psychology  of 
perfumes  that  attracted  some  attention  in  the  medi- 
cal journal  in  which  it  was  published  by  her  husband. 
That  the  perfume  of  flowers  should  now  have  drawn 
the  shattered  fragments  of  her  mind  together  for  their 
comfort  and  given  her  the  foretaste  of  immortality, 
by  the  sign  of  the  consciousness  of  personal  presence 
and  peace,  is  beautiful  indeed. 

Your  declaration  that  henceforth  one  garden  is  not 
enough  for  your  ambition,  but  that  you  crave  several, 
amuses  me  greatly.  For  a  mere  novice  I  must  say 
that  you  are  making  strides  in  seven-league  horticul- 
tural boots,  wherein  you  have  arrived  at  the  heart  of 
the  matter,  viz. :  —  one  may  grow  many  beautiful 
and  satisfactory  flowers  in  a  mixed  garden  such  as 
falls  to  the  lot  of  the  average  woman  sufficiently  lueky 
to  own  a  garden  at  all,  but  to  develop  the  best  possi- 
bilities of  any  one  family,  like  the  rose,  carnation, 


THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS        309 

or  lily,  that  is  a  bit  whimsical  about  food  and 
lodging,  each  one  must  have  a  garden  of  its  own,  so 
to  speak,  which,  for  the  amateur,  may  be  made  to  read 
as  a  special  bed  in  a  special  location,  and  not  neces- 
sarily a  vast  area. 

This  need  is  always  recognized  in  the  English  gar- 
den books,  and  the  chapter  headings,  The  Rose  Garden, 

—  Hardy    Garden,  —  Wall    Garden,  —  Lily    Garden, 

—  Alpine  Garden,  etc.,  lead  one  at  first  sight  to  think 
that  it  is  a  great  estate  alone  that  can  be  so  treated ; 
but  it  is  merely  a  horticultural  protest,  born  of  long 
experience,  against  mixing  races  to  their  mutual  hurt, 
and  this  precaution,  together  with  the  climate,  makes 
of  all  England  a  gardener's  paradise ! 

What  you  say  of  the  expansiveness  of  the  list  of 
fragrant  flowers  and  leaves  is  also  true,  for  taken  in 
the  literal  sense  there  are  really  few  plants  without  an 
individual  odour  of  some  sort  in  bark,  leaf,  or  flower 
usually  sufficient  to  identify  them.  In  a  recent 
book  giving  what  purports  to  be  a  list  of  fra- 
grant flowers  and  leaves,  the  chrysanthemum  is  in- 
cluded, as  it  gives  out  an  aromatic  perfume  from  its 
leaves  !  This  is  true,  but  so  also  does  the  garden  mari- 
gold, and  yet  we  should  not  include  either  among 
fragrant  leaves  in  the  real  sense. 


310  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Hence  to  make  the  right  selection  of  plants  for  the 
bed  of  sweet  odours  it  is  best,  as  in  the  case  of  choosing 
annuals,  to  adhere  to  a  few  tried  and  true  worthies. 

But  at  your  rhapsody  on  the  bed  of  carnations,  I 
am  also  tempted  to  launch  forth  in  praise  of  all  pinks 
in  general  and  the  annual  flowering  garden  carnation, 
early  Marguerite,  and  picotee  varieties  in  particular, 
especially  when  I  think  what  results  might  be  had 
from  the  same  bits  of  ground  that  are  often  left  to  be 
overrun  with  straggling  and  unworthy  annuals.  For 
to  have  pinks  to  cut  for  the  house,  pinks  for  colour 
masses  out-of-doors,  and  pinks  to  give  away,  is  but  a 
matter  of  understanding,  a  little  patience,  and  the 
possession  of  a  cold  pit  (which  is  but  a  deeper  sort  of 
frame  like  that  used  for  a  hotbed  and  sunken  in  the 
ground)  against  a  sunny  wall,  for  the  safe  wintering 
of  a  few  of  the  tenderer  species. 

In  touching  upon  this  numerous  family,  second 
only  to  the  rose  in  importance,  the  embarrassment  is, 
where  to  begin.  Is  a  carnation  a  pink,  or  a  pink  a 
carnation?  I  have  often  been  asked.  You  may 
settle  that  as  you  please,  since  the  family  name  of  all, 
even  the  bearded  Sweet-William,  is  Dianthus,  the 
decisive  title  of  Linnseus,  a  word  from  the  Greek  mean- 
ing "flower  of  Jove,"  while  the  highly  scented  species 


THE   PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS        311 

and  varieties  of  the  more  or  less  pungent  clove  breath 
remain  under  the  old  subtitle  —  Caryophyllus. 

To  go  minutely  into  the  differences  and  distinctions 
of  the  race  would  require  a  book  all  to  itself,  for  in 
1597,  more  than  three  hundred  years  ago,  Gerarde 
wrote:  "There  are,  under  the  name  of  Caryophyllus, 
comprehended  diuers  and  sundrie  sorts  of  plants,  of 
such  variable  colours  and  also  severall  shapes  that  a 
great  and  large  volume  would  not  suffice  to  write  of 
euery  one  in  particular."  And  when  we  realize  that 
the  pink  was  probably  the  first  flower  upon  which, 
early  in  the  eighteenth  century,  experiments  in  hybridi- 
zation were  tried,  the  intricacy  will  be  fully  understood. 

For  the  Garden,  You,  and  I,  three  superficial 
groups  only  are  necessary :  the  truly  hardy  perennial 
pinks,  that  when  once  established  remain  for  years; 
the  half-hardy  perennials  that  flower  the  second  year 
after  planting,  and  require  protection;  and  the  bien- 
nials that  will  flower  the  first  year  and  may  be  treated 
as  annuals. 

The  Margaret  carnations,  though  biennials,  are  best 
treated  as  annuals,  for  they  may  be  had  in  flower 
in  three  to  four  months  after  the  sowing  of  the  seed, 
and  the  English  perennial  border  carnations,  bizarres, 
and  picotees  will  live  for  several  years,  but  in  this 


3i2  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

climate  must  be  wintered  in  a  dry  wooden  cold  pit, 
after  the  manner  of  the  perennial  varieties  of  wall- 
flowers, tender  roses,  and  the  like. 

I  emphasize  the  words  dry  wooden  in  connection 
with  a  cold  pit  from  my  experience  in  seeking  to  make 
mine  permanent  by  replacing  the  planks,  with  which 
it  was  built  and  which  often  decayed,  by  stone  work, 
with  most  disastrous  results,  causing  me  to  lose  a  fine 
lot  of  plants  by  mildew. 

The  truly  hardy  pinks  (dianthus  plumarius),  the 
fringed  and  clove-scented  species  both  double  and 
single  of  old-time  gardens,  that  bloom  in  late  spring 
and  early  summer,  are  called  variously  May  and  grass 
pinks.  Her  Majesty  is  a  fine  double  white  variety 
of  this  class,  and  if,  in  the  case  of  double  varieties, 
you  wish  to  avoid  the  risk  of  getting  single  flowers,  you 
would  better  start  your  stock  with  a  few  plants  and 
subdivide.  For  myself,  every  three  or  four  years,  I 
sow  the  seed  of  these  pinks  in  spring  in  the  hardy  seed 
bed,  and  transplant  to  their  permanent  bed  early 
in  September,  covering  the  plants  lightly  in  winter 
with  evergreen  boughs  or  corn  stalks.  Leaf  litter  or 
any  sort  of  covering  that  packs  and  holds  water  is 
deadly  to  pinks,  so  prone  is  the  crown  to  decay. 

In  the  catalogues  you  will  find  these  listed  under  the 


THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS       313 

names  of  Pheasant's  Eye,  Double  Scotch  pinks 
(Scotius),  and  Perpetual  Pink  (semper ftor  ens}.  With 
this  class  belongs  the  Sweet- William  (dianthus  bar- 
batus},  which  should  be  sown  and  treated  in  a  like 
manner.  It  is  also  a  hardy  perennial,  but  I  find  it 
best  to  renew  it  every  few  years,  as  the  flowers  of  young 
plants  are  larger,  and  in  spite  of  care,  the  most  beau- 
tiful hybrids  will  often  decay  at  the  ground.  There  is 
no  garden  flower,  excepting  the  Dahlia,  that  gives  us 
such  a  wealth  of  velvet  bloom,  and  if  you  mean  to 
make  a  specialty  of  pinks,  I  should  advise  you  to  buy 
a  collection  of  Sweet- Williams  in  the  separate  colours, 
which  range  from  white  to  deepest  crimson  with 
varied  markings. 

Directions  for  sowing  the  biennial  Chinese  and 
Japanese  pinks  were  given  in  the  chronicle  concern- 
ing the  hardy  seed  bed.  These  pinks  are  not  really 
fragrant,  though  most  of  them  have  a  pleasant  apple 
odour  that,  together  with  their  wonderful  range  of 
colour,  makes  them  particularly  suitable  for  table 
decoration. 

In  addition  to  the  mixed  colours  recommended  for 
the  general  seed  bed,  the  following  Japanese  varieties 
are  of  special  beauty,  among  the  single  pinks :  Queen 
of  Holland,  pure  white;  Eastern  Queen,  enormous 


314  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

rose- pink  flowers;  Crimson  Belle,  dark  red.  Among 
the  double,  Fireball,  an  intense  scarlet;  the  Diadem 
pink,  Salmon  Queen,  and  the  lovely  Oriental  Beauty 
with  diversely  marked  petals  of  a  crepy  texture. 

The  double  varieties  of  course  are  more  solid  and 
lasting,  if  they  do  not  insist  upon  swelling  so  mightily 
that  they  burst  the  calyx  and  so  have  a  dishevelled 
and  one-sided  look ;  but  for  intrinsic  beauty  of  colour 
and  marking  the  single  Chinese  and  Japanese  pinks, 
particularly  the  latter,  reign  supreme.  They  have  a 
quality  of  holding  one  akin  to  that  of  the  human  eye 
and  possess  much  of  the  power  of  individual  expression 
that  belongs  to  pansies  and  single  violets. 

By  careful  management  and  close  clipping  of  with- 
ered flowers,  a  bed  of  these  pinks  may  be  had  in  bloom 
from  June  until  December,  the  first  flowers  coming 
from  the  autumn-sown  plants,  which  may  be  replaced 
in  August  by  those  sown  in  the  seed  bed  in  late  May, 
which  by  this  time  will  be  well  budded. 

"August  is  a  kittle  time  for  transplanting  border 
things,"  I  hear  you  say.  To  be  sure ;  but  with  your 
water-barrel,  the  long-necked  water-pots,  and  a  judi- 
cious use  of  inverted  flower-pots  between  ten  A.M. 
and  four  P.M.,  there  is  no  such  word  as  fail  in  this  as 
in  many  other  cases. 


SINGLE  AND  DOUBLE  PINKS. 


THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS       315 

Upon  the  second  and  third  classes  you  must  depend 
for  pinks  of  the  taller  growth  ranging  from  one  to  two 
feet  in  height  and  flourishing  long-stemmed  clusters 
of  deliciously  clove-scented  flowers.  The  hardy  Mar- 
garets might  be  wintered  in  the  pit,  if  it  were  worth 
the  while,  but  they  are  so  easily  raised  from  seed,  and 
so  prone  literally  to  bloom  themselves  to  death  in  the 
three  months  between  midsummer  and  hard  frost, 
that  I  prefer  to  sow  them  each  year  in  late  March  and 
April  and  plant  them  out  in  May,  as  soon  as  their 
real  leaves  appear,  and  pull  them  up  at  the  general 
autumnal  garden  clearance.  Upon  the  highly  scented 
perpetual  and  picotee  pinks  or  carnations  (make 
your  own  choice  of  terms)  you  must  depend  for  fra- 
grance between  the  going  of  the  May  pinks  and  the 
coming  of  the  Margarets ;  not  that  they  of  necessity 
cease  blooming  when  their  more  easily  perfected  sis- 
ters begin ;  quite  the  contrary,  for  the  necessity  of  lift- 
ing them  in  the  winter  gives  them  a  spring  set-back 
that  they  do  not  have  in  England,  where  they  are  the 
universal  hardy  pink,  alike  of  the  gardens  of  great 
estates  and  the  brick-edged  cottage  border. 

These  are  the  carnations  of  Mrs.  Marchant's  garden 
that  filled  you  with  such  admiration,  and  also  awoke 
the  spirit  of  emulation.  Lavinia  Cortright  was  correct 


3i6  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

in  associating  them  with  the  lavish  bloom  of  the  gar- 
dens of  Hampton  Court,  for  if  anything  could  make 
me  permanently  unpatriotic  (which  is  impossible), 
it  would  be  the  roses  and  picotee  pinks  of  the  dear  old 
stupid  (human  middle-class,  and  cold  bedroom- wise), 
but  florally  adorable  mother  country ! 

The  method  by  which  you  may  possess  yourself  of 
these  crowning  flowers  of  the  garden,  for  coronations 
is  one  of  the  words  from  which  carnation  is  supposed 
but  to  be  derived,  is  as  follows :  — 

Be  sure  of  your  seed.  Not  long  ago  it  was  neces- 
sary to  import  it  direct,  but  not  now.  You  may  buy 
from  the  oldest  of  American  seed  houses  fifty  varieties 
of  carnations  and  picotees,  in  separate  packets,  for  three 
dollars,  or  twenty-five  sorts  for  one  dollar  and  seventy- 
five  cents,  or  twelve  (enough  for  a  novice)  for  one 
dollar,  the  same  being  undoubtedly  English  or  Hol- 
land grown,  while  a  good  English  house  asks  five 
shillings,  or  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  for  a  single  packet 
of  mixed  varieties ! 

Moral  — it  is  not  necessary  that  "made  in  England" 
should  be  stamped  upon  flower  seeds  to  prove  them  of 
English  origin! 

If  you  can  spare  hotbed  room,  the  seeds  may  be 
sown  in  April,  like  the  early  Margarets,  and  trans- 


THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS        317 

planted  into  some  inconspicuous  part  of  the  vegetable 
garden,  where  the  soil  is  deep  and  firm  and  there  is  a 
free  circulation  of  air  (not  between  tall  peas  and  sweet 
corn),  as  for  the  first  summer  these  pinks  have  no 
ornamental  value,  other  than  the  pleasurable  spec- 
tacle made  by  a  healthy  plant  of  any  kind,  by  virtue 
of  its  future  promise.  Before  frost  or  not  later  than 
the  second  week  in  October  the  pinks  should  be  put 
in  long,  narrow  boxes  or  pots  sufficiently  large  to  hold 
all  the  roots  comfortably,  but  with  little  space  to  spare, 
watered,  and  partly  shaded,  until  they  have  recovered 
themselves,  when  they  should  be  set  in  the  lightest 
part  of  the  cold  pit.  During  the  winter  months  they 
should  have  only  enough  water  to  keep  the  earth  from 
going  to  dust,  and  as  much  light  and  air  as  possible 
without  absolutely  freezing  hard,  after  the  manner  of 
treating  lemon  verbenas,  geraniums,  and  wall-flowers. 

By  the  middle  of  April  they  may  be  planted  in  the 
bed  where  they  are  to  bloom,  and  all  the  further  care 
they  neeoV  will  be  judicious  watering  and  the  care- 
ful staking  of  the  flower  stalks  if  they  are  weak  and  the 
buds  top-heavy,  —  and  by  the  way,  as  to  the  staking 
of  flowers  in  general,  a  word  with  you  later  on. 

In  the  greenhouse,  pinks  are  liable  to  many  ail- 
ments, and  several  of  these  follow  them  out-of-doors, 


3i8  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

three  having  given  me  some  trouble,  the  most  fatal 
being  of  a  fungoid  order,  due  usually  to  unhealthy 
root  conditions  or  an  excess  of  moisture. 

Rust  is  one  of  these,  its  Latin  name  being  too  long 
for  the  simple  vocabulary  of  The  Garden,  You,  and  I. 
It  first  shows  itself  in  a  brown  spot  that  seems  to  have 
worked  out  from  the  inner  part  of  the  leaf.  Some- 
times it  can  be  conquered  by  snipping  the  infected 
leaves,  but  if  it  seizes  an  entire  bed,  the  necessary 
evil  of  spraying  with  Bordeaux  mixture  must  be  resorted 
to,  as  in  the  case  of  fungus -spotted  hollyhocks. 

Thrip,  the  little  transparent,  whitish  fly,  will  some- 
times bother  border  carnations  in  the  same  way  as  it 
does  roses.  If  the  flowers  are  only  in  bud,  I  sprinkle 
them  with  my  brass  rose- atomizer  and  powder  slightly 
with  helebore.  But  if  the  flowers  are  open,  sprinkling 
and  shaking  alone  may  be  resorted  to.  For  the  sev- 
eral kinds  of  underground  worms  that  trouble  pinks, 
of  which  the  wireworm  is  the  chief,  I  have  found  a  lib- 
eral use  of  unslaked  lime  and  bone-dust  in  the  prepa- 
ration of  the  soil  before  planting  the  best  preventive. 

Other  ailments  have  appeared  only  occasionally. 
Sometimes  an  apparently  healthy,  full-grown  plant 
will  suddenly  wither  away,  or  else  swell  up  close  to 
the  ground  and  finally  burst  so  that  the  sap  leaks 


THE  PINK  FAMILY  OUTDOORS        319 

out  and  it  dies  like  a  punctured  or  girdled  tree.  The 
first  trouble  may  come  from  the  too  close  contact  of 
fresh  manure,  which  should  be  kept  away  from  the 
main  roots  of  carnations,  as  from  contact  with  lily 
bulbs. 

As  to  the  swelling  called  gout,  there  is  no  cure,  so 
do  not  temporize.  Pull  up  the  plant  at  once  and 
disinfect  the  spot  with  unslaked  lime  and  sulphur. 

Thus,  Mary  Penrose,  may  you  have  either  pinks  in 
your  garden  or  a  garden  of  pinks,  whichever  way  you 
may  care  to  develop  your  idea.  "A  deal  of  trouble?  " 
Y-e-s;  but  then  only  think  of  the  flowers  that  crown 
the  work,  and  you  might  spend  an  equal  amount  of 
time  in  pricking  cloth  with  a  steel  splinter  and  em- 
broidering something,  in  the  often  taken-in-vain  name 
of  decorative  art,  that  in  the  end  is  only  an  elaborated 
rag  —  without  even  the  bone  and  the  hank  of  hair! 


XVI 
THE   FRAME   OF  THE   PICTURE 

VINES  AND  SHRUBS 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 

Woodridge,  September  10.  Your  chronicle  of  the 
Pink  Family  found  me  by  myself  in  camp,  dreaming 
away  as  vigorously  as  if  it  was  a  necessary  and  prac- 
tical occupation.  After  all,  are  we  sure  that  it  is  not, 
in  a  way,  both  of  these?  This  season  my  dreams  of 
night  have  been  so  long  that  they  have  lingered  into 
the  things  of  day  and  vice  versa,  and  yet  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other  have  whispered  of  idleness,  but  the 
endless  hope  of  work. 

Bart's  third  instalment  of  vacation  ends  to-morrow, 
though  we  shall  continue  to  sleep  out  of  doors  so  long 
as  good  weather  lasts;  the  remaining  ten  days  we  are 
saving  until  October,  when  the  final  transplanting  of 
trees  and  shrubs  is  to  be  made;  and  in  addition  to 
those  for  the  knoll  we  have  marked  some  shapely  dog- 
woods, hornbeams,  and  tulip  trees  for  grouping  in 
320 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE        321 

other  parts  of  the  home  acres.  There  are  also  to  be 
had  for  the  digging  good  bushes  of  the  early  pink 
and  clammy  white  azalea,  mountain- laurel,  several  of 
the  blueberry  tribe,  that  have  white  flowers  in  summer 
and  glorious  crimson  foliage  in  autumn,  white-flowered 
elder,  button- bush,  groundsel  tree,  witchhazel,  bay- 
berry,  the  shining- leaved  sumach,  the  white  meadow- 
sweet, and  pink  steeplebush,  besides  a  number  of  cor- 
nels and  viburnums  suitable  for  shrubberies.  As  I 
glance  over  the  list  of  what  the  river  and  quarry  woods 
have  yielded  us,  it  is  like  reading  from  the  catalogue 
of  a  general  dealer  in  hardy  plants,  and  yet  I  suppose 
hundreds  of  people  have  as  much  almost  at  their  doors, 
if  they  did  but  know  it. 

The  commercial  side  of  a  matter  of  this  kind  is  not 
the  one  upon  which  to  dwell  the  most,  except  upon 
the  principle  of  the  old  black  woman  who  said,  "Chil- 
lun,  count  yer  marcies  arter  every  spell  o'  pain!"  and 
to-day,  in  assaying  our  mercies  and  the  various  ad- 
vantages of  our  garden  vacation,  I  computed  that 
the  trees,  shrubs,  ferns,  herbaceous  wild  flowers,  and 
vines  (yes,  we  have  included  vines,  of  which  I  must 
tell  you),  if  bought  of  the  most  reasonable  of  dealers, 
would  have  cost  us  at  least  three  hundred  dollars, 
without  express  or  freight  charges. 


322  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

The  reason  for  my  being  by  myself  at  this  particu- 
lar moment  is  that  Bart,  mounted  on  solemn  Romeo, 
has  taken  the  Infant,  astride  her  diminutive  pony,  by 
a  long  leader,  for  a  long- promised  ride  up  the  river 
road,  the  same  being  the  finale  of  the  celebration  of 
his  birthday,  that  began  shortly  after  daylight.  The 
Infant,  in  order  to  be  early  enough  to  give  him  the 
first  of  his  thirty-three  kisses,  came  the  night  before, 
and  though  she  has  camped  out  with  us  at  intervals 
all  summer,  the  novelty  has  not  worn  off.  She  has  a 
happy  family  of  pets  that,  without  being  caged  or  in 
any  way  coerced  or  confined,  linger  about  the  old 
barn,  seem  to  watch  for  her  coming,  and  expect  their 
daily  rations,  even  though  they  do  not  care  to  be 
handled. 

Punch  and  Judy,  the  gray  squirrels  of  the  dove- 
cote, perch  upon  her  shoulders  and  pry  into  the  pockets 
of  her  overalls  for  nuts  or  kernels  of  corn,  all  the  while 
keeping  'a  bright  eye  upon  Reddy,  the  setter  pup, 
who,  though  he  lies  ever  so  sedately,  nose  between 
paws,  they  well  know  is  not  to  be  trusted.  While  as 
for  birds,  all  the  season  we  have  had  chipping- spar- 
rows, catbirds,  robins,  and  even  a  wood- thrush,  leader 
of  the  twilight  orchestra,  all  of  whom  the  little  witch 
has  tempted  in  turn  by  a  bark  saucer  spread  with 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE        323 

leaves  and  various  grains  and  small  fruits,  from  straw- 
berries to  mulberries,  for  which  she  has  had  a  daily 
hunt  through  the  Opal  Farm  land  the  season 
through. 

Toward  the  English  sparrow  she  positively  declines 
to  harden  her  heart,  in  spite  of  my  having  repeated 
the  story  of  its  encroachments  and  crimes.  She 
listens  and  merely  shakes  her  head,  saying,  "We 
'vited  them  to  come,  didn't  we,  mother?  When  we 
'vites  people,  we  always  feed  'em;  'sides,  they're  the 
only  ones'll  let  me  put  them  in  my  pocket,"  which  is 
perfectly  true,  for  having  learned  this  warm  abiding- 
place  of  much  oats  and  cracked  corn,  they  follow  her 
in  a  flock,  and  a  few  confiding  spirits  allow  themselves 
to  be  handled. 

At  the  birthday  dinner  party,  arranged  by  the  In- 
fant, a  number  of  these  guests  were  present.  We 
must  have  looked  a  motley  crew,  in  whose  company 
Old  King  Cole  himself  would  have  been  embarrassed, 
for  Bart  wore  a  wreath  of  pink  asters,  while  a  gigan- 
tic sunflower  made  my  head-dress,  and  the  cake, 
made  and  garnished  with  red  and  white  peppermints, 
an  American  and  an  Irish  flag,  by  Anastasia,  was 
mounted  firmly  upon  a  miscellaneous  mass  of  flowers, 
with  a  superstructure  of  small  yellow  tomatoes,  parsley, 


324  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

young  carrots,  and  beets,  the  colour  of  these  vegetables 
having  caught  the  Infant's  eye. 

The  pony,  Ginger,  had  a  basket  of  second-crop  clover 
flowers  provided  for  him;  Reddy  some  corned- beef 
hash,  his  favourite  dish,  coaxed  from  Anastasia;  while 
for  Punch,  Judy,  and  as  many  of  their  children  as 
would  venture  down  from  the  rafters,  the  Infant  had 
compounded  a  wonderful  salad  of  mixed  nuts  and 
corn.  As  the  Infant  ordained  that  "the  childrens 
shan't  turn  in  'til  d'sert, "  we  had  the  substantial  part 
of  our  meal  in  peace ;  but  the  candles  were  no  sooner 
blown  out  and  the  cake  cut  than  Ginger  left  his  clover 
to  nibble  the  young  carrots,  the  squirrels  got  into  the 
nut  dish  bodily  and  began  sorting  over  the  nuts  to 
find  those  they  liked  best,  with  such  vigour  that  the 
others  flew  in  our  faces,  and  Reddy  fell  off  the  box 
upon  which  the  Infant  had  balanced  him  with  diffi- 
culty, nearly  carrying  the  table-cloth  with  him,  while 
at  this  moment,  the  feast  becoming  decidedly  crumby, 
we  were  surrounded  by  the  entire  flock  of  English 

sparrows ! 
******* 

Now  this  is  not  at  all  what  I  started  to  tell  you; 
quite  the  contrary.  Please  forgive  this  domestic  ex- 
cursion into  the  land  of  maternal  pride  and  happen- 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE        325 

ings.  What  I  meant  to  write  of  was  my  conviction, 
that  came  through  sitting  on  the  hay  rafters  and  look- 
ing down  upon  the  garden,  that  as  a  beautiful  paint- 
ing is  improved  by  proper  framing,  so  should  the 
garden  be  enclosed  at  different  points  by  frames,  to 
focus  the  eye  upon  some  central  object. 

Though  the  greater  part  of  the  garden  is  as  yet 
only  planned  and  merely  enough  set  out  in  each  part 
to  fix  special  boundaries,  as  in  the  case  of  the  rose  bed, 
I  realize  that  as  a  whole  it  is  too  open  and  lacks  per- 
spective. You  see  it  all  at  once;  there  are  no  breaks. 
No  matter  in  what  corner  scarlet  salvia  and  vermilion 
nasturtiums  may  be  planted,  they  are  sure  to  get  in 
range  with  the  pink  verbenas  and  magenta  phlox  in 
a  teeth-on-edge  way. 

From  other  viewpoints  the  result  is  no  better. 
Looking  from  the  piazza,  that  skirts  two  sides  of  the 
house,  where  we  usually  spend  much  time,  three  por- 
tions of  the  garden  are  in  sight  at  once,  and  all  on  dif- 
ferent planes,  without  proper  separating  frames;  the 
rose  garden  is  near  at  hand,  the  old  borders  leading 
to  the  sundial  being  at  right  angles  with  it.  At  the 
right,  the  lower  end  of  the  knoll  and  the  gap  with 
its  bed  of  heliotrope  are  prominent,  while  between,  at 
a  third  distance,  is  the  proposed  location  of  the  white- 


326  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

birch  screen,  the  old  wall  rockery,  etc.  The  rockery 
and  rose  garden  are  in  their  proper  relation,  but  the 
other  portions  should  be  given  perspective  by  framing, 
and  the  result  of  my  day-dreams  is  that  this,  accord- 
ing to  nature,  should  be  done  by  the  grouping  of 
shrubs  and  the  drapery  of  vines. 

I  now  for  the  first  time  fully  understand  the  uses  of 
the  pergola  in  landscape  gardening,  the  open  sides 
of  which  form  a  series  of  vine- draped  frames.  I  had 
always  before  thought  it  a  stiff  and  artificial  sort  of 
arrangement,  as  well  as  the  tall  clipped  yews,  laurel 
trees  in  tubs,  and  marble  vases  and  columns  that  are 
parts  of  the  usual  framework  of  the  more  formal 
gardens.  And  while  these  things  would  be  decidedly 
out  of  place  in  gardens  of  our  class,  and  at  best  could 
only  be  indulged  in  via  white- painted  wooden  imitations, 
the  woman  who  is  her  own  gardener  may  exercise 
endless  skill  in  bringing  about  equally  good  results 
with  the  rustic  material  at  hand  and  by  following  wild 
nature,  who,  after  all,  is  the  first  model. 

I  think  I  hear  Evan  laughing  at  my  preachment 
concerning  his  special  art,  but  the  comprehension  of 
it  has  all  come  through  looking  at  the  natural  landscape 
effects  that  have  happened  at  Opal  Farm  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  hand  of  man  has  there  been  stayed 


'THE   SILVER   MAPLE   BY  THE   LANE  GATE." 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE        327 

these  many  years.  On  either  side  of  the  rough  bars 
leading  between  our  boundary  wall  and  the  meadow 
stands  a  dead  cedar  tree,  from  which  the  dry,  moss- 
covered  branches  have  been  broken  by  the  loads  of 
hay  that  used  to  be  gathered  up  at  random  and  carted 
out  this  way.  Wild  birds  doubtless  used  these  branches 
as  perches  of  vantage  from  which  they  might  view  the 
country,  both  during  feeding  excursions  and  in  migra- 
tion, and  thus  have  sown  the  seed  of  their  provender, 
for  lo  and  behold,  around  the  old  trees  have  grown 
vines  of  wild  grapes,  with  flowers  that  perfume  the  en- 
tire meadow  in  June.  Here  the  woody,  spiral-climbing 
waxwork  holds  aloft  its  clusters  of  berries  that  look 
like  bunches  of  miniature  lemons  until  on  being  ripe 
they  open  and  show  the  coral  fruit;  Virginia  creeper 
of  the  five-pointed  fingers,  clinging  tendrils,  glorious 
autumn  colour,  and  spreading  clusters  of  purple  black- 
berries, and  wild  white  clematis,  the  "traveller's  joy"  of 
moist  roadside  copses,  all  blending  together  and  stretch- 
ing out  hands,  until  this  season  being  undisturbed,  they 
have  clasped  to  form  a  natural  arch  of  surpassing 
beauty. 

Having  a  great  pile  of  cedar  poles,  in  excess  of  the 
needs  of  all  our  other  projects,  my  present  problem 
is  to  place  a  series  of  simple  arches  constructed  on 


328  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

this  natural  idea,  that  shall  frame  the  different  garden 
vistas  from  the  best  vantage-point.  Rustic  pillars,  after 
the  plan  of  Evan's  that  you  sent  me  for  the  corners  of 
the  rose  garden,  will  give  the  necessary  formal  touch, 
while  groups  of  shrubs  can  be  so  placed  as  not  only 
to  screen  colours  that  should  not  be  seen  in  combina- 
tion, but  to  make  reasons  for  turns  that  would 
otherwise  seem  arbitrary. 

Aunt  Lavinia  has  promised  me  any  number  of 
Chinese  honeysuckle  vines  from  the  little  nursery 
bed  of  rooted  cuttings  that  is  Martin  Cortright's 
special  province,  for  she  writes  me  that  they  began 
with  this  before  having  seed  beds  for  either  hardy 
plants  or  annuals,  as  they  wished  to  have  hedges  of 
flowering  shrubs  in  lieu  of  fences,  and  some  fine  old 
bushes  on  the  place  furnished  ample  cuttings  of  the 
old-fashioned  varieties,  which  they  have  supplemented. 

Aunt  Lavinia  also  says  that  the  purple  Wisteria 
grows  easily  from  the  beanlike  seed  and  blossoms  in 
three  years,  and  that  she  has  a  dozen  of  these  two- 
year-old  seedlings  that  she  will  send  me  as  soon  as  I 
have  place  for  them.  Remembering  your  habit  of 
giving  every  old  tree  a  vine  to  comfort  its  old  age, 
and  in  particular  the  silver  maple  by  the  lane  gate  of 
your  garden,  with  its  woodpecker  hole  and  swinging 


'A   CURTAIN   TO   THE    SIDE    PORCH. 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE        329 

garniture  of  Wisteria  bloom,  I  have  promised  a  similar 
cloak  to  a  gnarled  bird  cherry  that  stands  midway  in 
the  fence  rockery,  and  yet  another  to  an  attenuated 
poplar,  so  stripped  of  branches  as  to  be  little  more 
than  a  pole  and  still  keeping  a  certain  dignity. 

The  honeysuckles  I  shall  keep  for  panelling  the 
piazza,  they  are  such  clean  vines  and  easily  controlled ; 
while  on  the  two- story  portion  under  the  guest-room 
windows  some  Virginia  creepers  can  be  added  to  make 
a  curtain  to  the  side  porch. 

As  for  other  vines,  we  have  many  resources.  Fes- 
tooned across  the  front  stoop  at  Opal  Farm  is  an  old 
and  gigantic  vine  of  the  scarlet- and- orange  trumpet 
creeper,  that  has  overrun  the  shed,  climbed  the  side 
of  the  house,  and  followed  round  the  rough  edges  of 
the  eaves,  while  all  through  the  grass  of  the  front  yard 
are  seedling  plants  of  the  vine  that,  in  spring,  are 
blended  with  tufts  of  the  white  star  of  Bethlehem 
and  yellow  daffies. 

In  the  river  woods,  brush  and  swamp  lots,  near  by, 
we  have  found  and  marked  for  our  own  the  mountain 
fringe  with  its  feathery  foliage  and  white  flowers 
shaded  with  purple  pink,  that  suggest  both  the  bleed- 
ing heart  of  gardens  and  the  woodland  Dutchman's 
breeches.  It  grows  in  great  strings  fourteen  or  fifteen 


330  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

feet  in  length  and  seems  as  trainable  as  smilax  or 
the  asparagus  vine.  Here  are  also  woody  trailers  of 
moonseed,  with  its  minute  white  flowers  in  the  axils 
of  leaves  that  might  pass  at  first  glance  for  one  of 
the  many  varieties  of  wild  grapes;  the  hyacinth 
bean,  with  its  deliciously  fragrant  chocolate  flowers 
tinged  with  violet,  that  is  so  kind  in  covering  the 
unsightly  underbrush  of  damp  places.  And  here, 
first,  last,  and  always,  come  the  wild  grapes,  showing 
so  many  types  of  leaf  and  fruit,  from  the  early  ripen- 
ing summer  grape  of  the  high- climbing  habit,  having 
the  most  typical  leaf  and  thin-skinned,  purple  berries, 
that  have  fathered  so  many  cultivated  varieties;  the 
frost  grape,  with  its  coarsely- toothed,  rather  heart- 
shaped,  pointed  leaf  and  small  black  berries,  that  are 
uneatable  until  after  frost  (and  rather  horrid  even 
then);  to  the  riverside  grape  of  the  glossy  leaf, 
fragrant  blossoms  and  fruit. 

One  thing  must  be  remembered  concerning  wild 
grapes:  they  should  be  planted,  if  in  the  open  sun- 
light, where  they  will  be  conspicuous  up  to  late  summer 
only,  as  soon  after  this  time  the  leaves  begin  to  grow 
rusty,  while  those  in  moist  and  partly-shady  places 
hold  their  own.  I  think  this  contrast  was  borne  in 
upon  me  by  watching  a  mass  of  grape-vines  upon  a 


THE  FRAME   OF  THE  PICTURE        331 

tumble-down  wall  that  we  pass  on  our  way  to  the  river 
woods.  In  August  the  leaves  began  to  brown  and  curl 
at  the  edges,  while  similar  vines  in  the  cool  lane  shade 
were  still  green  and  growing.  So  you  see,  Mrs.  Evan, 
that,  in  addition  to  our  other  treasure-trove,  we  are  pre- 
pared to  start  a  free  vinery  as  well,  and  as  our  lucky 
star  seems  to  be  both  of  morning  and  evening  and 
hangs  a  long  while  in  the  sky,  Meyer,  Larry's  succes- 
sor, we  find,  has  enough  of  a  labourer's  skill  at  post 
setting  and  a  carpenter's  eye  and  hand  at  making  an 
angled  arch  (this  isn't  the  right  term,  but  you  know 
what  I  mean),  so  that  we  have  not  had  to  pause  in  our 
improvements  owing  to  Amos  Opie's  rheumatic 
illness. 

Not  that  I  think  the  old  man  very  ill,  and  I  believe 
he  could  get  about  more  if  he  wished,  for  when  I  went 
down  to  see  him  this  morning,  he  seemed  to  have 
something  on  his  mind,  and  with  but  little  urging  he 
told  me  his  dilemma.  Both  The  Man  from  Every- 
where and  Maria  Maxwell  have  made  him  good  offers 
for  his  farm,  The  Man's  being  the  first !  Now  he  had 
fully  determined  to  sell  to  The  Man,  when  Maria's 
kindness  during  his  illness  not  only  turned  him  in  her 
favour,  but  gave  him  an  attachment  for  the  place, 
so  that  now  he  doesn't  really  wish  to  sell  at  all !  It 


332  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

is  this  mental  perturbation,  in  his  very  slow  nature, 
that  is,  I  believe,  keeping  him  an  invalid ! 

What  Maria  wants  of  the  farm  neither  Bart  nor  I 
can  imagine.  She  has  a  little  property,  a  few  thousand 
dollars,  enough  probably  to  buy  the  farm  and  put  it 
in  livable  repair,  but  this  money  we  thought  she  was 
saving  for  the  so-called  rainy  day  (which  is  much  more 
apt  to  be  a  very  dry  period)  of  spinsterhood !  Of  course 
she  has  some  definite  plan,  but  whether  it  is  bees  or 
boarders,  jam  or  a  kindergarten,  we  do  not  know, 
but  we  may  be  very  sure  that  she  is  not  jumping  at 
random.  Only  I'm  a  little  afraid,  much  as  I  should 
like  her  for  a  next-door  neighbour,  that,  with  her 
practical  head,  she  would  insist  upon  making  hay  of 
the  lily  meadow! 

"Straying  away  again  from  the  horticultural  to  the 
domestic  things,"  I  hear  you  say.  Yes;  but  now  that 
the  days  are  shortening  a  bit,  it  seems  natural  to  think 
more  about  people  again.  If  I  only  knew  whether 
Maria  means  to  give  up  her  teaching  this  winter,  I 
would  ask  her  to  stay  with  us  and  begin  to  train  the 
Infant's  mind  in  the  way  it  should  think,  for  my  head 
and  hands  will  be  full  and  my  heart  overflowing,  I 
imagine.  Ah !  this  happy,  blessed  summer !  Yes, 
I  know  that  you  know,  though  I  have  never  told  you. 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE         333 

That's  what  it  means  to  have  real  friends.  But  to 
the  shrubs. 

Will  you  do  me  one  more  favour  before  even  the 
suspicion  of  frost  touches  my  enthusiasm,  that  I  may 
have  everything  in  order  in  my  Garden  Boke  against 
a  planting  season  when  Time  may  again  hold  his 
remorseless  sway.  This  list  of  eighteen  or  more  shrubs 
is  made  from  those  I  know  and  like,  with  selections 
from  that  Aunt  Lavinia  sent  me.  Is  it  comprehen- 
sive, think  you?  Of  course  we  cannot  go  into  novel- 
ties in  this  direction,  any  more  than  we  may  with  the 
roses. 

There  is  the  little  pale  pink,  Daphne  Mezereum, 
that  flowers  before  its  leaves  come  in  April.  I  saw 
it  at  Aunt  Lavinia's  and  Mrs.  Marchant  had  a  great 
circle  of  the  bushes.  Then  Forsythias,  with  yellow 
flowers,  the  red  and  pink  varieties  of  Japanese  quince, 
double-flowering  almond  and  plum,  the  white  spireas 
(they  all  have  strange  new  names  in  the  catalogue), 
the  earliest  being  what  mother  used  to  call  bridal- 
wreath  (pruni folia),  with  its  long  wands  covered  with 
double  flowers,  like  tiny  white  daisies,  the  St.  Peter's 
wreath  (Van  Houttei]  with  the  clustered  flowers  like 
small  white  wild  roses,  two  pink  species,  Billardii 
and  Anthony  Waterer,  beautiful  if  gathered  before 


334  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

the  flowers  open,  as  the  colour  fades  quickly,  and  a 
little  dwarf  bush,  Fortune's  white  spirea,  that  I  have 
seen  at  the  florist's.  Next  the  old-fashioned  purple 
lilac,  that  seems  to  hold  its  own  against  all  newcomers 
for  garden  use,  the  white  tree  lilac,  the  fragrant  white 
mock  orange  or  syringa  (Coronarius),  the  Japanese 
barberry  of  yellow  flowers  and  coral  berries,  the 
three  deutzias,  two  being  the  tall  crenata  and  scabra 
and  the  third  the  charming  low- growing  gracilis, 
the  old-fashioned  snowball  or  Guelder  rose  (vibur- 
num opulus  sterilis),  the  weigelias,  rose-pink  and  white, 
the  white  summer-flowering  hydrangea  (paniculata 
grandiflora),  and  the  brown-flowered,  sweet-scented 
strawberry  shrub  (calycanthus  floridus). 

"Truly  a  small  slice  from  the  loaf  the  catalogues 
offer,"  you  say.  Yes;  but  you  must  remember  that 
our  wild  nursery  has  a  long  chain  to  add  to  these. 

In  looking  over  the  list  of  shrubs,  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  majority  of  them,  like  the  early  wild  flowers, 
are  white,  but  then  it  is  almost  as  impossible  to  have 
too  many  white  flowers  as  too  many  green  leaves. 

September  15.  I  was  prevented  from  finishing 
this  until  to-day,  when  I  have  a  new  domestic  event 
to  relate.  Maria,  no  longer  a  music  mistress,  has 
leased  the  Opal  Farm,  it  seems,  and  will  remain  with 


THE  FRAME  OF  THE  PICTURE         335 

me  this  winter  pending  the  repairing  of  the  house, 
which  Amos  Opie  himself  is  to  superintend.  I  wish 
I  could  fathom  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  matter,  which 
are  not  at  present  clear,  but  probably  I  shall  know 
in  time.  Meanwhile,  I  have  Maria  for  a  winter  com- 
panion, and  a  mystery  to  solve  and  puzzle  about;  is 
not  this  truly  feminine  bliss? 


XVII 
THE   INS   AND   OUTS   OF   THE   MATTER 

CHRONICLED  by  the  rays  of  light  and  sound  waves 
upon  the  walls  of  the  house  at  Opal  Farm. 

PEOPLE  INVOLVED 

The  Man  from  Everywhere,  keeping  bachelor's  hall  in  the 
eastern  half  of  the  farm  home. 

Amos  Opie,  living  in  the  western  half  of  the  house,  the  sepa- 
rating door  being  locked  on  his  side. 

Maria  Maxwell,  who,  upon  hearing  Opie  is  again  ill,  has 
dropped  in  to  give  him  hot  soup  and  medicine. 

Amos  Opie  was  more  than  usually  uncomfortable 
this  particular  September  evening.  It  may  have  been 
either  a  rather  sudden  change  in  the  weather  or  the 
fact  that  now  that  he  was  sufficiently  well  to  get  about 
the  kitchen  and  sit  in  the  well- house  porch,  of  a  sunny 
morning,  Maria  Maxwell  had  given  up  the  habit  of 
running  over  several  times  a  day  to  give  him  his  medi- 
cine and  be  sure  that  the  kettle  boiled  and  his  tea  was 
freshly  drawn,  instead  of  being  what  she  called  "stewed 
bitterness"  that  had  stood  on  the  leaves  all  day. 
336 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER      337 

Whichever  it  was,  he  felt  wretched  in  body  and 
mind,  and  began  to  think  himself  neglected  and  was 
consequently  aggrieved.  He  hesitated  a  few  minutes 
before  he  opened  the  door  leading  to  The  Man's  part 
of  the  house,  took  a  few  steps  into  the  square  hall,  and 
called  "Mr.  Blake"  in  a  quavering  voice;  but  no  an- 
swer came,  as  the  bachelor  had  not  yet  returned  from 
the  reservoir. 

Going  back,  he  settled  heavily  into  the  rocking- 
chair  and  groaned,  —  it  was  not  from  real  pain,  simply 
he  had  relaxed  his  grip  and  was  making  himself  mis- 
erable, —  then  he  began  to  talk  to  himself. 

"She  doesn't  come  hi  so  often  now  he's  come  home, 
and  he  fights  shy  o'  the  place,  thinkin'  mebbe  she's 
around,  and  they  both  wants  to  buy.  He's  offered 
me  thirty-five  hundred  cash,  and  she's  offered  me 
thirty  hundred  cash,  which  is  all  the  place's  worth, 
for  it'll  take  another  ten  hundred  to  straighten  out 
the  house,  with  new  winder  frames,  floorin'  'nd  plaster 
'nd  shingles,  beams  and  sills  all  bein'  sound,  —  when 
the  truth  is  I  don't  wish  ter  sell  nohow,  yet  can't  afford 
to  hold!  I  don't  see  light  noway  'nd  I'm  feelin' 
another  turn  comin'  when  I  was  nigh  ready  ter  git 
about  agin  to  Miss'ss  Penrose  flower  poles.  O 
lordy !  lordy !  I  wish  I  had  some  more  o'  that  settling 


338  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

medicine  Maria  Maxwell  brought  me "  (people 
very  seldom  spoke  of  that  young  woman  except  by  her 
complete  name).  "If  I  had  my  wind,  I'd  yell  over 
to  her  to  come  up  !  Yes,  I  vow  I  would !" 

David,  the  hound,  who  had  been  lying  asleep 
before  the  stove,  in  which  the  fire  had  died  away,  got 
up,  stretched  himself,  and,  going  to  his  master,  after 
gazing  in  his  face  for  several  minutes,  licked  his  hands 
thoroughly  and  solemnly,  in  a  way  totally  different 
from  the  careless  and  irresponsible  licks  of  a  joyous 
dog;  then  raising  his  head  gave  a  long-drawn  bay  that 
finally  broke  from  its  melancholy  music  and  degener- 
ated into  a  howl. 

Amos  must  have  dozed  in  his  chair,  for  it  seemed 
only  a  moment  when  a  knock  sounded  on  the  side 
door  and,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  Maria  Max- 
well entered,  a  cape  thrown  about  her  shoulders,  a 
lantern  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  covered  pitcher 
from  which  steam  was  curling. 

"I  heard  David  howling  and  I  went  to  our  gate  to 
look;  I  saw  that  there  wasn't  a  light  in  the  farm-house 
and  so  knew  that  something  was  the  matter.  No 
fire  in  the  stove  and  the  room  quite  chilly!  Where 
is  that  neighbour  of  yours  in  the  other  half  of  the  house  ? 
Couldn't  he  have  brought  you  in  a  few  sticks?" 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER      339 

"He  isn't  ter  hum  just  now,"  replied  Amos,  in 
tones  that  were  unnecessarily  feeble,  while  at  the  same 
time  an  idea  entered  his  brain  that  almost  made  him 
chuckle;  but  the  sound  which  was  quenched  in  his 
throat  only  came  to  Maria  as  an  uncomfortable  struggle 
for  breath  that  hastened  her  exit  to  the  woodpile  by 
the  side  fence  for  the  material  to  revive  the  fire.  In 
going  round  the  house,  her  arms  laden  with  logs,  she 
bumped  into  the  figure  of  The  Man  leading  his  bicycle 
across  the  grass,  which  deadened  his  footfall,  as  the 
lantern  she  carried  blinded  her  to  all  objects  not  within 
its  direct  rays. 

"Maria  Maxwell!  Is  Opie  ill  again?  You  must 
not  carry  such  a  heavy  load !"  he  exclaimed  all  in  one 
breath,  as  he  very  quickly  transferred  the  logs  to  his 
own  arms,  and  was  making  the  fire  in  the  open  stove 
almost  before  she  had  regained  the  porch,  so  that 
when  she  had  lighted  a  lamp  and  drawn  the  turkey- 
red  curtains,  the  reflections  of  the  flames  began  to 
dance  on  the  wall  and  cheerfulness  suddenly  replaced 
gloom. 

Still  Amos  sat  in  an  attitude  of  dejection.  Thank- 
ing The  Man  for  his  aid,  but  taking  no  further  notice 
of  him,  Maria  began  to  heat  the  broth  which  was  con- 
tained in  the  pitcher,  asking  Amos  at  the  same  time 


340  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

if  he  did  not  think  that  he  would  feel  better  in 
bed. 

"I  dunno's  place  has  much  to  do  with  it,"  he 
grumbled;  "this  can't  go  on  no  longer,  it's  doing  for 
me,  that  it  is!" 

Maria,  thinking  that  he  referred  to  bodily  illness, 
hastened  the  preparations  for  bed,  and  The  Man, 
feeling  helpless  as  all  men  do  when  something  active 
is  being  done  in  which  they  have  no  part,  rose  to  go, 
and,  with  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  porch  door, 
said  hi  a  low  voice :  "  If  I  might  help  you  in  any  way,  I 
should  be  very  glad;  I  do  not  quite  like  leaving  you 
alone  with  this  old  fellow,  —  you  may  need  help  in 
getting  him  to  bed.  Tell  me  frankly,  would  you  like 
me  to  stay?" 

"Frankly  I  would  rather  you  would  not,"  said 
Maria,  yet  hi  so  cordial  a  tone  that  no  offence  could 
be  gathered  from  it  in  any  way. 

So  the  door  opened  and  closed  again  and  Maria 
began  the  rather  laborious  task  of  coaxing  the  old  man 
to  bed.  When  once  there,  the  medicine  given,  and 
the  soup  taken,  which  she  could  not  but  notice  that  he 
swallowed  greedily,  she  seated  herself  before  the  fire, 
resolving  that,  if  Amos  did  not  feel  better  by  nine 
o'clock,  she  would  have  Barney  come  over  for  the 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER      341 

night,  as  of  course  she  must  return  to  be  near  the 
Infant. 

As  she  sat  there  she  pictured  for  the  hundredth 
time  how  she  would  invest  her  little  capital  and  re- 
arrange her  life,  if  Amos  consented  to  sell  her  the  farm, 
—  how  best  to  restore  the  home  without  elaborating 
the  care  of  it,  and  take  one  or  two  people  to  live  with 
her  who  had  been  ill  or  needed  rest  in  cheerful  sur- 
roundings. Not  always  the  same  two,  for  that  is  para- 
lyzing after  a  time  when  the  freshness  of  energetic 
influence  wears  off;  but  her  experience  among  her 
friends  told  her  that  in  a  city's  social  life  there  was  an 
endless  supply  of  overwrought  nerves  and  bodies. 

The  having  a  home  was  the  motive,  the  guests  the 
necessity.  Then  she  closed  her  eyes  again  and  saw 
the  upper  portion  of  the  rich  meadow  land  that  had 
lain  fallow  so  long  turned  into  a  flower  farm  wherein 
she  would  raise  blossoms  for  a  well-known  city  dealer 
who  had,  owing  to  his  artistic  skill,  a  market  for  his 
wares  and  decorative  skill  in  all  the  cities  of  the  eastern 
coast.  She  had  consulted  him  and  he  approved  her 
plan. 

The  meadow  was  so  sheltered  that  it  would  easily 
have  a  two  weeks'  lead  over  the  surrounding  country, 
and  the  desirability  of  her  crop  should  lie  in  its 


342  THE   GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

perfection  rather  than  rarity.  Single  violets  in  frames, 
lilies-of-the-valley  for  Easter  and  spring  weddings, 
sweet  peas,  in  separate  colours,  peonies,  Iris,  Gladioli, 
asters,  and  Dahlias:  three  acres  in  all.  Upon  these 
was  her  hope  built,  for  with  a  market  waiting,  what 
lay  between  her  and  success  but  work? 

Yes,  work  and  the  farm.  Then  came  the  vision 
of  human  companionship,  such  as  her  cousin  Bartram 
and  Mary  Penrose  shared.  Could  flowers  and  a  home 
make  up  for  it?  After  all,  what  is  home? 

Her  thoughts  tangled  and  snapped  abruptly,  but 
of  one  thing  she  was  sure.  She  could  no  longer  endure 
teaching  singing  to  assorted  tone-deaf  children,  many 
of  whom  could  no  more  keep  on  the  key  than  a  cow 
on  the  tight  rope ;  and  when  she  found  a  talented  child 
and  gave  it  appreciative  attention,  she  was  oftentimes 
officially  accused  of  favouritism  by  some  disgruntled 
parent  with  a  political  pull,  for  that  was  what  contact 
with  the  public  schools  of  a  large  city  had  taught  her 
to  expect. 

A  log  snapped  —  she  looked  at  the  clock.  It  was 
exactly  nine !  Going  to  the  window,  she  pulled  back 
the  curtain ;  the  old  moon,  that  has  a  fashion  of  work- 
ing northward  at  this  time,  was  rising  from  a  location 
wholly  new  to  her. 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER       343 

She  looked  at  Amos;  he  was  very  still,  evidently 
asleep,  yet  unnaturally  so,  for  the  regular  breathing 
of  unconsciousness  was  not  there  and  the  firelight 
shadows  made  him  look  pinched  and  strange.  Sud- 
denly she  felt  alone  and  panic  stricken;  she  forgot  the 
tests  so  well  known  to  her  of  pulse  taking,  and  all  the 
countryside  tales  of  strokes  and  seizures  came  back  to 
her.  She  did  not  hesitate  a  moment;  a  man  was  in 
the  same  house  and  she  felt  entirely  outside  of  the 
strength  of  her  own  will. 

Going  to  the  separating  door,  she  found  it  locked, 
on  which  side  she  could  not  be  sure ;  but  seeing  a  long 
key  hanging  by  the  clock  she  tried  it,  on  general  prin- 
ciples. It  turned  hard,  and  the  lock  finally  yielded  with 
a  percussive  snap.  Stepping  into  the  hall,  she  saw  a 
light  in  the  front  of  the  house,  toward  which  she  hur- 
ried. The  Man  was  seated  by  a  table  that  was  strewn 
with  books,  papers,  and  draughting  instruments;  he 
was  not  working,  but  in  his  turn  gazing  at  the  flames 
from  a  smouldering  hearth  fire,  though  his  coat  was  off 
and  the  window  open,  for  it  was  not  cold  but  merely 
chilly. 

Hearing  her  step,  he  started,  turned,  and,  as  he  saw 
her  upon  the  threshold,  made  a  grab  for  his  coat  and 
swung  it  into  place.  It  is  strange,  this  instinct  in 


344  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

civilized  man  of  not  appearing  coatless  before  a  woman 
he  respects. 

"Amos  Opie  is  very  ill,  I'm  afraid,"  she  said  gravely, 
without  the  least  self- consciousness  or  thought  of 
intrusion. 

"Shall  I  go  for  the  doctor?"  said  The  Man,  reaching 
for  his  hat  and  at  the  same  time  opening  the  long  cup- 
board by  the  chimney,  from  which  he  took  a  leather- 
covered  flask. 

"No,  not  yet;  please  come  and  look  at  him.  Yes, 
I  want  you  very  much!"  This  in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tioning look  in  his  eyes. 

Standing  together  by  the  bed,  they  saw  the  old  man's 
eyelids  quiver  and  then  open  narrowly.  The  Man 
poured  whiskey  from  his  flask  into  a  glass,  added  water, 
and  held  it  to  Amos's  lips,  where  it  was  quickly  and 
completely  absorbed ! 

Next  he  put  a  finger  on  Amos's  pulse  and  after  a 
minute  closed  his  watch  with  a  snap,  but  without 
comment. 

"You  feel  better  now,  Opie?"  he  questioned  pres- 
ently in  a  tone  that,  to  the  old  man  at  least,  was  sig- 
nificant. 

"What  gave  you  this  turn?  Is  there  anything  on 
your  mind  ?  You  might  as  well  tell  now,  as  you  will 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER       345 

have  to  sooner  or  later,  and  Miss  Maxwell  must  go 
home  presently.  You'll  have  to  put  up  with  me  for 
the  rest  of  the  night  and  a  man  isn't  as  cheerful  a  com- 
panion as  a  woman  —  is  he,  Amos?" 

"No,  yer  right  there,  Mr.  Blake,  and  it's  the  idee 
o'  loneliness  that's  upsettin'  me !  Come  down  ter 
facts,  Mr.  Blake,  it's  the  offers  I've  had  fer  the  farm 
—  yourn  and  hern  —  and  my  wishin'  ter  favour  both 
and  yet  not  give  it  up  myself,  and  the  whole's  too 
much  fer  me!" 

"Hers !  Has  Miss  Maxwell  made  a  bid  for  the  farm? 
What  do  you  want  it  for?"  he  said,  turning  quickly 
to  Maria,  who  coloured  and  then  replied  quietly  — 
"To  live  in!  which  is  exactly  what  you  said  when  I 
asked  you  a  similar  question  a  couple  of  months 
ago!" 

"The  p'int  is,"  continued  Amos,  quickly  growing 
more  wide  awake,  and  addressing  the  ceiling  as  a 
neutral  and  impartial  listener,  "that  Mr.  Blake 
has  offered  me  five  hundred  more  than  Maria  Max- 
well, and  though  I  want  ter  favour  her  (in  buyin', 
property  goes  to  the  highest  bidder;  it's  only  contract 
work  that's  fetched  by  the  lowest,  and  I  never  did 
work  by  contract  —  it's  too  darned  frettin'),  I  can't 
throw  away  good  money,  and  neither  of  'em  yet  knows 


346  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

that  whichsomever  of  'em  buys  it  has  got  ter  give  me  a 
life  right  ter  live  in  the  summer  kitchen  and  fetch  my 
drinkin'  water  from  the  well  in  the  porch !  A  lone 
widder  man's  a  sight  helplesser  'n  a  widder,  but  yet  he 
don't  get  no  sympathy!" 

The  Man  from  Everywhere  began  to  laugh,  and 
catching  Maria's  eye  she  joined  him  heartily.  "How 
do  you  mean  to  manage?"  he  asked  in  a  way  that 
barred  all  thought  of  intrusion. 

"I'm  going  to  have  a  flower  farm  and  take  in  two 
invalids  —  no,  not  cranks  or  lunatics,  but  merely 
tired  people,"  she  added,  a  little  catch  coming  in  her 
voice. 

"Then  you  had  better  begin  with  me,  for  I'm  pre- 
cious tired  of  taking  care  of  myself,  and  here  is  Amos 
also  applying,  so  I  do  not  see  but  what  your  establish- 
ment is  already  complete!" 

Then,  as  he  saw  by  her  face  that  the  subject  was 
not  one  for  jest,  he  said,  in  his  hearty  way  that  Mary 
Penrose  likes,  "Why  not  let  me  buy  the  place,  as 
mine  was  the  first  offer,  put  it  in  order,  and  then 
lease  it  to  you  for  three  years,  with  the  privilege  of 
buying  if  you  find  that  your  scheme  succeeds  ?  If 
the  house  is  too  small  to  allow  two  lone  men  a  room 
each,  I  can  add  a  lean-to  to  match  Opie's  summer 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER      347 

kitchen,  for  you  know  sometimes  a  woman  finds  it 
comfortable  to  have  a  man  in  the  house!" 

Maria  did  not  answer  at  first,  but  was  looking  at 
the  one  uncurtained  window,  where  the  firelight  again 
made  opals  of  the  panes.  Then  turning,  she  said, 
"I  will  think  over  your  offer,  Mr.  Blake,  if  everything 
may  be  upon  a  strictly  business  basis.  But  how  about 
Amos?  He  seems  better,  and  I  ought  to  be  going. 
I  do  not  know  why  I  should  have  been  so  foolish, 
but  for  a  moment  he  did  not  seem  to  breathe,  and  I 
thought  it  was  a  stroke." 

"I'm  comin'  too  all  in  good  time,  now  my  mind's 
relieved,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  a  chuckle,  "and 
I  think  I'll  weather  to-night  fer  the  sake  o'  fixin'  that 
deed  termorrow,  Mr.  Blake,  if  you'll  kindly  give  me 
jest  a  thimbleful  more  o'  that  old  liquor  o'  yourn  — 
I  kin  manage  it  fust  rate  without  the  water,  thank 
Jee!" 

The  Man  followed  Maria  to  the  door  and  out  into 
the  night.  He  did  not  ask  her  if  he  might  go  with 
her  —  he  simply  walked  by  her  side  for  once  unques- 
tioned. 

Maria  spoke  first,  and  rather  more  quickly  and 
nervously  than  usual:  "I  suppose  you  think  that  my 
scheme  in  wishing  the  farm  is  a  madcap  one,  but  I'm 


348  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

sure  I  could  not  see  why  you  should  wish  to  own 
it!" 

"Yes  and  no!  I  can  well  understand  why  you 
should  desire  a  broader,  freer  life  than  your  vocation 
allows,  but  —  well,  as  for  reading  women's  motives,  I 
have  given  that  up  long  since ;  it  often  leads  to  trouble 
though  I  have  never  lost  my  interest  in  them. 

"I  think  Amos  Opie  will  revive,  now  that  his  mind 
is  settled"  (if  it  had  been  sufficiently  light,  Maria  would 
have  seen  an  expression  upon  The  Man's  face  indica- 
tive of  his  belief  that  the  recent  attack  of  illness  was 
not  quite  motiveless,  even  though  he  forgave  the  ruse). 
"In  a  few  days,  when  the  deeds  are  drawn,  will 
you  not,  as  my  prospective  tenant,  come  and  look 
over  the  house  by  daylight  and  tell  me  what  changes 
would  best  suit  your  purpose,  so  that  I  may  make 
some  plans?  I  imagine  that  Amos  revived  will  be 
able  to  do  much  of  the  work  himself  with  a  good 
assistant. 

"When  would  you  like  the  lease  to  begin?  In  May? 
It  is  a  pity  that  you  could  not  be  here  in  the  interval 
to  overlook  it  all,  for  the  pasture  should  be  ploughed 
at  once  for  next  year's  gardening." 

"May  will  be  late;  best  put  it  at  the  first  of  March. 
As  to  overseeing,  I  shall  not  be  far  away.  I'm  think- 


INS  AND  OUTS  OF  THE  MATTER      349 

ing  of  accepting  cousin  Mary's  offer  to  stay  with  her 
and  teach  the  Infant  and  a  couple  of  other  children 
this  winter,  which  may  be  well  for  superintending 
the  work,  as  I  suppose  you  are  off  again  with  the 
swallows,  as  usual." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  forget  the  reservoir  and  the  tunnelling 
of  Three  Brothers  for  the  aqueduct  to  Bridgeton!" 

"Then  let  it  be  March  first!"  said  Maria,  after 
hesitating  a  moment,  during  which  she  stood  looking 
back  at  Opal  Farm  lying  at  peace  in  the  moonlight; 
"only,  in  making  the  improvements,  please  do  them  as 
if  for  any  one  else,  and  remember  that  it  is  to  be  a 
strictly  business  affair!" 

"And  why  should  you  think  that  I  would  deal 
otherwise  by  you?"  The  Man  said  quickly,  stepping 
close,  where  he  could  see  the  expression  of  her  face. 

Maria,  feeling  herself  cornered,  did  not  answer 
immediately,  and  half  turned  her  face  away,  —  only  for 
a  moment,  however.  Facing  him,  she  said,  "Because 
men  of  your  stamp  are  always  good  to  women,  — 
always  doing  them  kindnesses  both  big  and  little 
(ask  Mary  Penrose),  —  and  sometimes  kindness  hurts !" 

"Well,  then,  the  lease  and  all  pertaining  to  it  shall 
be  strictly  in  the  line  of  business  until  you  yourself 
ask  for  a  modification,  —  but  be  careful,  I  may  be  a 


350  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

hard  landlord!"  Then,  dropping  his  guard,  he  said 
suddenly,  "Why  is  it  that  you  and  I  —  man  and 
woman  —  temperamentally  alike,  both  interested  in  the 
same  things,  and  of  an  age  to  know  what  in  life  is 
worth  while,  should  stand  so  aloof?  Is  there  no 
more  human  basis  upon  which  I  can  persuade 
you  to  come  to  Opal  Farm  when  it  is  mine?  Give 
me  a  month,  three  months,  —  lessen  the  distance 
you  always  keep  between  us,  and  give  me  leave  to 
convince  you !  Why  will  you  insist  upon  deliberately 
keeping  up  a  barrier  raised  in  the  beginning  when  I 
was  too  stupidly  at  home  in  your  cousin's  house  to 
see  that  I  might  embarrass  you?  Frankly,  do  you 
dislike  me?" 

Maria  began  two  different  sentences,  stumbled,  and 
stopped  short;  then  drawing  herself  up  and  looking 
The  Man  straight  in  the  face,  she  said,  "I  have  kept 
a  barrier  between  us,  and  deliberately,  as  you  say, 
but — "  here  she  faltered  —  "it  was  because  I  found 
you  too  interesting;  the  barrier  was  to  protect  my 
own  peace  of  mind  more  than  to  rebuff  you." 

"Then  I  may  try  to  convince  you  that  my  plan  is 
best?" 

"Yes,"  said  Maria,  with  a  glint  of  her  mischievous 
smile,  "if  you  have  plenty  of  time  to  spare." 


INS  AND  OUT  OF  THE  MATTER        351 

"And  you  will  give  me  no  more  encouragement  than 
this?  No  good  wish  or  omen?" 

"Yes,"  said  Maria  again,  "I  wish  that  you  may 
succeed — "  here  she  slipped  her  hand  in  the  belt 
of  her  gown  and  drew  out  a  little  chamois  bag  attached 
to  her  watch,  "and  for  an  omen,  here  is  the  opal  you 
gave  me  —  you  give  it  a  happy  interpretation  and  one 
is  very  apt  to  lose  an  unset  stone,  you  know!" 

But  as  neither  walls  nor  leaves  have  tongues,  Mary 
Penrose  never  learned  the  real  ins  and  outs  of  this 
matter. 


XVIII 

THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS 

(Barbara  Campbell  to  Mary  Penrose) 

Oaklands,  September  29.  Michaelmas.  The  birthdays 
of  our  commuters  are  not  far  apart.  This  being  Evan's 
festival,  we  have  eaten  the  annual  goose  in  his  honour, 
together  with  several  highly  indigestible  old- country 
dishes  of  Martha  Corkle's  construction,  for  she  comes 
down  from  the  cottage  to  preside  over  this  annual 
feast.  Now  the  boys  have  challenged  Evan  to  a  "golf 
walk"  over  the  Bluffs  and  back  again,  the  rough-and- 
ready  course  extending  that  distance,  and  I,  being 
"o'er  weel  dined,"  have  curled  up  in  the  garden-over- 
look window  of  my  room  to  write  to  you. 

It  has  been  a  good  gardener's  year,  and  I  am  sorry 
that  the  fall  anemones  and  the  blooming  of  the 
earliest  chrysanthemums  insist  upon  telling  me  that 
it  is  nearly  over,  —  that  is,  as  far  as  the  reign  of  com- 
plete garden  colour  is  concerned.  And  amid  our 
vagrant  summer  wanderings  among  gardens  of  high 
or  low  degree,  no  one  point  has  been  so  recurrent  or 
352 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS      353 

interesting  as  the  distribution  of  colour,  and  especially 
the  dominance  of  white  flowers  in  any  landscape  or 
garden  in  which  they  appear. 

In  your  last  letter  you  speak  of  the  preponderance 
of  white  among  the  flowering  shrubs  as  well  as  the 
early  blossoms  of  spring.  That  this  is  the  case  is 
one  of  the  strong  points  in  the  decorative  value  of 
shrubs,  and  in  listing  seeds  for  the  hardy  or  summer 
beds  or  sorting  the  bushes  for  the  rosary,  great  care 
should  be  taken  to  have  a  liberal  sprinkling  of  white, 
for  the  white  in  the  flower  kingdom  is  what  the 
diamond  is  in  the  mineral  world,  necessary  as  a 
setting  for  all  other  colours,  as  well  as  for  its  own 
intrinsic  worth. 

Look  at  a  well- cut  sapphire  of  flawless  tint.  It  is 
beautiful  surely,  but  in  some  way  its  depth  of  colour 
needs  illumination.  Surround  it  with  evenly  matched 
diamonds  and  at  once  life  enters  into  it. 

Fill  a  tall  jar  with  spires  of  larkspur  of  the  purest 
blue  known  to  garden  flowers.  Unless  the  sun  shines 
fully  on  them  they  seem  to  swallow  light;  mingle 
with  them  some  stalks  of  white  foxgloves,  Canter- 
bury bells,  or  surround  them  with  Madonna  lilies, 
a  fringe  of  spirea,  or  the  slender  Deutzia  gracilis,  more 
frequently  seen  in  florists'  windows  than  in  the  garden, 


354  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

and  a  new  meaning  is  given  the  blue  flower;  the 
black  shadows  disappear  from  its  depth  and  sky 
reflections  replace  them. 

The  blue- fringed  gentian,  growing  deep  among  the 
dark  grasses  of  low  meadows,  may  be  passed  over 
without  enthusiasm  as  a  dull  purplish  flower  by  one 
to  whom  its  possibilities  are  unknown;  but  come 
upon  it  backgrounded  by  Michaelmas  daisies  or 
standing  alone  in  a  meadow  thick  strewn  with  the 
white  stars  of  grass  of  Parnassus  or  wands  of  crystal 
ladies'  tresses,  and  all  at  once  it  becomes,  — 

"Blue,  blue,  as  if  the  sky  let  fall 
A  flower  from  its  cerulean  wall ! " 

The  same  white  setting  enhances  the  brighter  colours, 
though  in  a  less  degree  than  blue,  which  is,  next  to 
magenta,  one  of  the  most  difficult  colours  to  place  in 
the  garden.  In  view  of  this  fact  it  is  not  strange  that 
it  is  a  comparatively  unusual  hue  in  the  flower  world 
and  a  very  rare  one  among  our  neighbourly  eastern 
birds,  the  only  three  that  wear  it  conspicuously  being 
the  bluebird,  indigo  bird,  and  the  bluejay. 

It  is  this  useful  quality  as  a  setting  that  gives  value 
to  many  white  flowers  lacking  intrinsic  beauty,  like 
sweet  alyssum,  candy-tuft,  the  yarrows,  and  the  double 
feverfew.  In  buying  seeds  of  flowers  in  mixed  varie- 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS      355 

ties,  such  as  asters,  verbenas,  Sweet-William,  pansies, 
or  any  flower  in  short  that  has  a  white  variety,  it  is 
always  safe  to  buy  a  single  packet  of  the  latter,  be- 
cause I  have  often  noticed  that  the  usual  mixtures,  for 
some  reason,  are  generally  shy  not  only  of  the  white 
but  often  of  the  very  lightest  tints  as  well. 

In  selecting  asters  the  average  woman  gardener 
may  not  be  prepared  to  buy  the  eight  or  ten  different 
types  that  please  her  fancy  in  as  many  separate  colours ; 
a  mixture  of  each  must  suffice,  but  a  packet  of  white 
of  each  type  should  be  added  if  the  best  results  are 
to  be  achieved. 

The  same  applies  to  sweet  peas  when  planted  in 
mixture;  at  least  six  ounces  of  either  pure  white  or 
very  light,  and  therefore  quasi- neutral  tints  harmo- 
nizing with  all  darker  colours,  should  be  added.  For 
it  is  hi  the  lighter  tints  of  this  flower  that  its  butterfly 
characteristics  are  developed.  Keats  had  not  the 
heavy  deep-hued  or  striped  varieties  in  mind  when 
he  wrote  of 

"...  Sweet  Peas  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight, 
With  wings  of  gentle  flush :  o'er  delicate  white, 
And  taper  fingers  catching  at  all  things 
To  bind  them  all  about  with  tiny  rings." 

If  you  examine  carefully  the  "flats"  of  pansies 
growing  from  mixed  seed  and  sold  in  the  market-places 


356  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND   I 

or  at  local  florists',  you  will  notice  that  in  eight  out  of 
ten  the  majority  of  plants  are  of  the  darker  colours. 

There  are  white  varieties  of  almost  every  garden 
flower  that  blooms  between  the  last  frost  of  spring 
and  winter  ice.  The  snowdrop  of  course  is  white 
and  the  tiny  little  single  English  violet  of  brief 
though  unsurpassing  fragrance;  we  have  white  cro- 
cuses, white  hyacinths,  narcissus,  lilies-of-the-valley, 
Iris,  white  rock  phlox,  or  moss-pink,  Madonna  and 
Japan  lilies,  gladiolus,  white  campanulas  of  many 
species,  besides  the  well-known  Canterbury  bells,  white 
hollyhocks,  larkspurs,  sweet  Sultan,  poppies,  phloxes, 
and  white  annual  as  well  as  hardy  chrysanthe- 
mums. 

Almost  all  the  bedding  plants,  like  the  geranium, 
begonia,  ageratum,  lobelia,  etc.,  have  white  species. 
There  are  white  pinks  of  all  types,  white  roses,  and 
wherever  crimson  rambler  is  seen  Madame  Plantier 
should  be  his  bride ;  white  stocks,  hollyhocks,  verbenas, 
zinnias,  Japanese  anemones,  Arabis  or  rock  cress, 
and  white  fraxinella;  white  Lupins,  nicotiana,  even- 
ing primroses,  pentstemons,  portulaca,  primulas, 
vincas,  and  even  a  whitish  nasturtium,  though  its 
flame- coloured  partner  salvia  declines  to  have  her 
ardour  so  modified. 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS      357 

Among  vines  we  have  the  white  wisteria,  several 
white  clematis,  the  moon-flower,  and  other  Ipomeas, 
many  climbing  and  trailing  roses,  the  English  polygo- 
num,  the  star  cucumber,  etc.,  so  that  there  is  no  lack 
of  this  harmonizing  and  modifying  colour  (that  is  not 
a  colour  after  all)  if  we  will  but  use  it  intelligently. 

Aside  from  the  setting  of  flower  to  flower,  white 
has  another  and  wider  function.  As  applied  to  the 
broader  landscape  it  is  not  only  a  maker  of  per- 
spective, but  it  often  indicates  a  picture  and  fairly 
pulls  it  from  obscurity,  giving  the  same  lifelike  round- 
ness that  the  single  white  dot  lends  in  portraiture  to 
the  correctly  tinted  but  still  lifeless  eye. 

Take  for  instance  a  wide  field  without  groups  of 
trees  to  divide  and  let  it  be  covered  only  with  grass, 
no  matter  how  green  and  luxuriant,  and  there  is  a 
monotonous  flatness,  that  disappears  the  moment  the 
field  is  blooming  with  daisies  or  snowy  wild  asters. 

Follow  the  meandering  line  of  a  brook  through 
April  meadows.  Where  does  the  eye  pause  with  the 
greatest  sense  of  pleasure  and  restfulness?  On  the 
gold  of  the  marsh  marigolds  edging  the  water?  or  on 
the  silver- white  plumes  of  shad-bush  that  wave  and 
beckon  across  the  marshes,  as  they  stray  from  moist 
ground  toward  the  light  woods?  Could  any  gay  colour 


358          THE   GARDEN,    YOU,  AND   I 

whatsoever  compete  with  the  snow  of  May  apple  or- 
chards?—  the  fact  that  the  snow  is  often  rose  tinged 
only  serving  to  accentuate  the  contrasting  white. 

In  the  landscape  all  light  tints  that  at  a  distance 
have  the  value  of  white  are  equally  to  the  purpose, 
and  can  be  used  for  hedges,  boundaries,  or  what  may 
be  called  punctuation  points.  German  or  English 
Iris  and  peonies  are  two  very  useful  plants  for  this 
purpose,  flowering  in  May  and  June  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  season  holding  their  substantial,  well- set- up 
foliage.  These  two  plants,  if  they  receive  even  or- 
dinary good  treatment,  may  also  be  relied  upon  for 
masses  of  uniform  bloom  held  well  above  the  leaves; 
and  while  pure  white  peonies  are  a  trifle  monoto- 
nous and  glaring  unless  blended  with  the  blush,  rose, 
salmon,  and  cream  tints,  there  are  any  number  of 
white  iris  both  tall  and  dwarf  with  either  self-toned 
flowers,  or  pencilled,  feathered,  or  bordered  with  a 
variety  of  delicate  tints,  and  others  equally  valuable 
of  pale  shades  of  lilac  or  yellow,  the  recurved  falls 
being  of  a  different  tint. 

Thus  does  Nature  paint  her  pictures  and  give  us 
hints  to  follow,  and  yet  a  certain  art  phase  proclaims 
Nature's  colour  combinations  crude  and  rudimentary 
forsooth ! 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS     359 

Nature  is  never  crude  except  through  an  unsuc- 
cessful human  attempt  to  reproduce  the  uncopyable. 
Give  one  of  these  critics  all  the  colour  combinations 
of  the  evening  sky  and  let  him  manipulate  them  with 
wires  and  what  a  scorched  omelet  he  would  make  of 
the  most  simple  and  natural  sunset ! 

While  Nature  does  not  locate  the  different  colours 
on  the  palette  to  please  the  eye  of  man,  but  to  carry 
out  the  various  steps  in  the  great  plan  of  perpetuation, 
yet  on  that  score  it  is  all  done  with  a  sense  of  colour 
value,  else  why  are  the  blossoms  of  deep  woods,  as  well 
as  the  night-blooming  flowers  that  must  lure  the  moth 
and  insect  seekers  through  the  gloom,  white  or  light- 
coloured  ? 

In  speaking  of  white  or  pale  flowers  there  is  one  low 
shrub  with  evergreen  leaves  and  bluish-white  flowers 
that  I  saw  blooming  in  masses  for  the  first  time 
not  far  from  Boston  in  early  May.  There  was 
a  slight  hollow  where  the  sun  lay,  that  was  well 
protected  from  the  wind.  This  sloped  gently 
upward  toward  some  birches  that  margined  a  pond. 
The  birches  themselves  were  as  yet  but  in  tassel, 
the  near-by  grass  was  green  in  spots  only,  and  yet  here 
in  the  midst  of  the  chill,  reluctant  promise  of  early 
spring  was  firmness  of  leaf  and  clustered  flowers  of 


360          THE    GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

almost  hothouse  texture  and  fragrance.  Not  a  single 
spray  or  a  dozen,  but  hundreds  of  them,  covered  the 
bushes. 

This  shrub  is  Daphne  cneorum,  a  sturdier  evergreen 
cousin  of  Daphne  mezereum,  that  brave-hearted  shrub 
that  often  by  the  south  wall  of  my  garden  hangs  its 
little  pink  flower  clusters  upon  bare  twigs  as  early 
as  the  tenth  of  March.  Put  it  on  your  list  of  desir- 
ables, for  aside  from  any  other  situation  it  will  do 
admirably  to  edge  laurels  or  rhododendrons  and  so 
bring  early  colour  of  the  rosy  family  hue  to  brighten 
their  dark  glossy  leaves,  for  the  sight  and  the  scent 
thereof  made  me  resolve  to  cover  a  certain  nook  with 
it,  where  the  sun  lodges  first  every  spring.  I  am 
planting  mine  this  autumn,  which  is  necessary  with 
things  of  such  early  spring  vitality. 

Another  garden  point  akin  to  colour  value  hi  that 
it  makes  or  mars  has,  I  may  say,  run  itself  into  my 
vision  quite  sharply  and  painfully  this  summer,  and 
many  a  time  have  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and  looked  again 
hi  wonder  that  such  things  could  be.  This  is  the 
spoiling  of  a  well-thought-out  garden  by  the  obtrusive 
staking  of  its  plants.  Of  course  there  are  many 
tall  and  bushy  flowers  —  hollyhocks,  golden  glow, 
cosmos  —  that  have  not  sufficient  strength  of  stem 


DAPHNE  CNEORUM. 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS      361 

to  stand  alone  when  the  weight  of  soaking  rain  is  added 
to  their  flowers  and  the  wind  comes  whirling  to  chal- 
lenge them  to  a  dizzy  dance,  which  they  cannot 
refuse,  and  it  inevitably  turns  their  heavy  heads  and 
leaves  them  prone. 

Besides  these  there  are  the  lower,  slender,  but  top- 
heavy  lilies,  gladioli,  carnations,  and  the  like,  that 
must  not  be  allowed  to  soil  their  pretty  faces  in 
the  mud.  A  little  thinking  must  be  done  and  stakes 
suitable  to  the  height  and  girth  of  each  plant  chosen. 
If  the  purse  allows,  green- painted  stakes  of  sizes  vary- 
ing from  eighteen  inches  for  carnations  to  six  feet  for 
Dahlias  are  the  most  convenient;  but  lacking  these,  the 
natural  bamboos,  that  may  be  bought  in  bundles  by 
the  hundred,  in  canes  of  eight  feet  or  more,  and  after- 
ward cut  in  lengths  to  suit,  are  very  useful,  being  light, 
tough,  and  inconspicuous. 

In  supporting  a  plant,  remember  that  the  object  is 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  supplement  its  natural  stem. 
Therefore  cut  the  stake  a  little  shorter  than  the  top 
of  the  foliage  and  drive  it  firmly  at  the  back  of  the 
plant,  fastening  the  main  stem  to  the  stake  by  loosely 
woven  florist's  string. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  plant  to  be  supported  is  a 
maze  of  side  branches,  like  the  cosmos,  or  individual 


362  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

bushes  blended  so  as  to  form  a  hedge,  a  row  of 
stout  poles,  also  a  little  lower  than  the  bushes,  should 
be  set  firmly  behind  them,  the  twine  being  woven  care- 
fully in  and  out  among  the  larger  branches,  and  then 
tightened  carefully,  so  that  the  whole  plant  is  gradu- 
ally drawn  back  and  yet  the  binding  string  is  concealed. 

If  it  is  possible  to  locate  cosmos,  hollyhocks,  and 
Dahlias  (especially  Dahlias)  in  the  same  place  for  sev- 
eral successive  years,  a  flanking  trellis  fence  of  light 
posts,  with  a  single  top  and  bottom  rail  and  poultry 
wire  of  a  three- inch  mesh  between,  will  be  found 
a  good  investment.  Against  this  the  plants  may  be 
tethered  in  several  places,  and  thus  not  only  separate 
branches  can  be  supported  naturally,  but  individual 
flowers  as  well,  in  the  case  of  the  large  exhibition 
Dahlias. 

Practicable  as  is  the  proper  carrying  out  of  the 
matter,  in  a  score  of  otherwise  admirable  gardens  we 
have  seen  the  results  of  weeks  and  months  of  prepa- 
ration either  throttled  and  bound  martyrlike  to  a  stake 
or  twisted  and  tethered,  until  the  natural,  habit  of 
growth  was  wholly  changed.  In  some  cases  the  plants 
were  so  meshed  in  twine  and  choked  that  it  seemed  as 
if  a  spiteful  fairy  had  woven  a  "cat's  cradle"  over  them 
or  that  they  had  followed  out  the  old  proverb  and, 


THE  VALUE  OF  WHITE  FLOWERS       363 

having  been  given  enough  rope,  literally  hanged 
themselves.  In  other  gardens  green  stakes  were  set 
at  intervals  (I  noticed  it  in  the  case  of  gladioli  and 
carnations  especially)  and  strings  carried  from  one 
stake  to  the  other,  leaving  each  plant  hi  the  centre  of 
a  twine  square,  like  chessmen  imprisoned  on  the  board. 
But  the  most  terrible  example  of  all  was  where  either 
the  owner  or  the  gardener,  for  they  were  not  one  and 
the  same,  had  purchased  a  quantity  of  half-inch 
pine  strips  at  a  lumber  yard  and  proceeded  to 
scatter  them  about  his  beds  at  random,  regardless  of 
height  or  suitability,  very  much  as  if  some  neighbour- 
ing Fourth  of  July  celebration  had  showered  the  place 
with  rocket  sticks. 

If  your  young  German  has  time  in  the  intervals 
of  tree- planting  and  trellis- making,  get  him  to  trim 
some  of  the  cedars  of  a  diameter  of  two  or  three  inches 
and  stack  them  away  for  Dahlia  poles.  Next  season 
you  will  become  a  victim  of  these  gorgeous  velvet 
flowers,  I  foresee,  especially  as  I  have  fully  a  barrel 
of  the  "potatoes"  of  some  very  handsome  varieties 
to  bestow  upon  you.  Make  the  most  of  Meyer,  for 
he  will  probably  grow  melancholy  as  soon  as  cool 
weather  sets  in  and  he  thinks  of  winter  evenings  and 
a  sweetheart  he  has  left  in  the  fatherland ! 


364  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

We  have  had  several  Germans  and  they  all  had 
lieber  schatz,  for  jealousy  or  the  scorn  of  whom 
they  had  left  home,  were  for  the  same  reason  loath 
to  stay  away  from  it,  and  at  the  same  time,  owing  to 
contending  emotions,  were  unable  to  work  so  that 
they  might  return. 

Are  you  not  thinking  about  returning  to  your  indoor 
bed  and  board  again?  With  warm  weather  I  fly 
out  of  the  door  as  a  second  nature,  but  with  a  smart 
promise  of  frost  I  turn  about  again  and  everything  — 
furniture,  pictures,  books,  and  the  dear  people  them- 
selves —  seems  refreshingly  new  and  wholly  lovable ! 

If  you  are  thinking  of  making  out  a  book  list  of 
your  needs  as  an  answer  to  your  mother's  or  your  "in- 
law's"  query,  "What  do  you  want  for  Christmas?"  write 
at  the  beginning  —  Bailey's  Cyclopedia  of  American 
Horticulture,  in  red  ink.  Lavinia  and  Martin  Cortright 
gave  it  to  us  last  Christmas,  the  clearly  printed  first 
edition  on  substantial  paper  in  four  thick  volumes, 
mind  you,  and  it  is  the  referee  and  court  of  appeals  of 
the  Garden,  You,  and  I  in  general  and  myself  in 
particular.  Not  only  will  it  tell  you  everything  that 
you  wish  or  ought  to  know,  but  do  it  completely  and 
truthfully.  In  short  it  is  the  perfect  antidote  to 
Garden  Goozk! 


XIX 
PANDORA'S   CHEST 

(Mary  Penrose  to  Barbara  Campbell) 
Woodridge,  October  10.  Nearly  a  month  of  pen 
silence  on  my  part,  during  which  I  have  felt  many 
times  as  if  I  must  go  from  one  to  another  of  our  chosen 
trees  in  the  river  woods  and  shake  the  leaves  down 
so  that  the  transplanting  might  proceed  forthwith, 
lest  the  early  winter  that  Amos  Opie  predicts  both 
by  a  goose  bone  and  certain  symptoms  of  his  own 
shall  overtake  us.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  leaves  thus 
far  prefer  their  airy  quarters  to  huddling  upon  the 
damp  ground. 

However,  there  is  another  reason  for  haste  more 
urgent  than  the  fear  of  frost  —  the  melancholy  vein 
that  you  predicted  we  should  find  in  Meyer  is  fast 
developing,  and  as  we  wish  to  have  him  leave  us  in  a 
perfectly  natural  way,  we  think  it  best  that  his  stay 
shall  not  be  prolonged.  At  first  he  seemed  not  only 
absorbed  by  his  work  and  to  enjoy  the  garden  and 
especially  the  river  woods,  but  the  trees  and  water 
rushing  by. 

365 


366  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

A  week  ago  a  change  came  over  him;  he  became 
morose  and  silent,  and  yesterday  when  I  was  admiring, 
half  aloud,  the  reflection  of  a  beautiful  scarlet  oak 
mirrored  in  the  still  backwater  of  the  river,  he  paused 
in  the  kneeling  position  in  which  he  was  loosening 
the  grasp  of  a  white  flowering  dogwood,  and  first  throw- 
ing out  his  arms  and  then  beating  his  chest  with  them, 
exclaimed  —  "Other  good  have  trees  and  water  than 
for  the  eye  to  see;  they  can  surely  hang  and  drown 
the  man  the  heart  of  whom  holds  much  sorrow,  and 
that  man  is  I!" 

Of  course  I  knew  that  it  was  something  a  little  out 
of  the  ordinary  state  of  affairs  that  had  sent  a  man  of 
his  capability  to  tramp  about  as  a  vagrant  sort  of 
labourer,  but  I  had  no  previous  idea  that  melancholy 
had  taken  such  a  grip  upon  him.  Much  do  I  prefer 
Larry,  with  periods  of  hilarity  ending  in  peaceful 
"shlape."  Certain  peoples  have  their  peculiar  racial 
characteristics,  but  after  all,  love  of  an  occasional  drink 
seems  a  more  natural  proposition  than  a  tendency 
to  suicide,  while  as  to  the  relative  value  of  the  labour 
itself,  that  is  always  an  individual  not  a  racial  matter. 

I  too  am  feeling  the  domestic  lure  of  cooler  weather. 
All  the  day  I  wish  to  be  in  the  open,  but  when  the 
earlier  twilight  closes  in,  the  house,  with  its  lamps, 


PANDORA'S  CHEST  367 

hearth  fires,  and  voices,  weaves  a  new  spell  about  me, 
though  having  once  opened  wide  the  door  of  outdoors 
it  can  never  be  closed. 

Do  you  remember  the  Masque  of  Pandora,  and 
the  mysterious  chest  ? 

"Pandora 
Hast  thou  never 
Lifted  the  lid? 

Epimetheus 
The  oracle  forbids. 

Safely  concealed  there  from  all  mortal  eyes 
Forever  sleeps  the  secret  of  the  Gods. 
Seek  not  to  know  what  they  have  hidden  from  thee 
Till  they  themselves  reveal  it." 

Bart  was  reading  it  aloud  to  me  last  night.  Prose 
read  aloud  always  frets  me,  because  one's  mind  travels 
so  much  faster  than  the  spoken  words  and  arrives  at 
the  conclusion,  even  if  not  always  the  right  one,  long 
before  the  printed  climax  is  reached;  but  with  good 
poetry  it  is  different — the  thoughts  are  so  crystallized 
that  the  sound  of  a  melodious  voice  liberates  them  more 
swiftly. 

Verily  Pandora's  Chest  has  been  opened  this  season 
here  in  the  garden;  the  gods  were  evidently  not  un- 
willing and  turned  the  lock  for  me,  though  perhaps 


368  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

I  have  thrown  back  the  cover  too  rashly,  for  out  has 
flown,  instead  of  dire  disaster,  ambition  in  a  flock  of 
winged  ideals,  hopes,  and  wishes  masquerading  cleverly 
as  necessities,  that  will  keep  me  alert  in  trying  to 
overtake  and  capture  them  all  my  life  long. 

Last  night,  once  again  comfortably  settled  in  the 
den,  we  took  inventory  of  the  season's  doings,  and  un- 
like most  ventures,  find  there  is  nothing  to  write  upon 
the  nether  page  that  records  loss.  Of  the  money  set 
aside  for  the  improvement  of  the  knoll  half  yet  remains, 
allowing  for  the  finishing  of  the  tree  transplanting. 
Into  this  remainder  we  are  preparing  to  tuck  the  filling 
for  the  rose  bed,  a  goodly  store  of  lily  bulbs,  some 
flowering  shrubs,  an  openwork  wire  fence  to  be  a 
vine-covered  screen  betwixt  us  and  the  road,  instead 
of  the  broken  rattling  pickets,  a  new  harness  for  Romeo 
to  wear  when  he  returns  home,  as  a  thank  offering 
for  his  comfortable  services  (really  the  bridle  of  the 
old  one  is  quite  scratched  to  bits  upon  the  various 
trees  and  rough  fence  rails  to  which  he  has  been 
tethered),  and  last  of  all,  what  do  you  think?  Three 
guesses  may  be  easily  wasted  without  hitting  the  mark, 
for  instead  of,  as  we  expected,  tearing  down  the  old  barn, 
our  summer  camp,  we  are  going  to  remodel  it  to  be 
a  permanent  outdoor  shelter.  It  is  to  .  have  a  wide 


PANDORA'S  CHEST  369 

chimney  and  fireplace  at  one  end,  before  which  our 
beds  may  be  drawn  campfire  fashion  if  it  is  too  cool, 
and  adjustable  shutters  so  that  it  may  be  either  merely 
a  roof  or  a  fairly  substantial  cabin  and  at  all  possible 
seasons  a  study  and  playroom  for  us  all.  Then  too 
we  shall  overlook  "Maria  Maxwell's  Experiment,"  as 
Bart  calls  her  scheme  of  running  the  Opal  Farm. 
We  were  heartily  glad  to  know  that  she  had  leased 
and  not  bought  it,  but  we  were  much  surprised  to 
learn,  first  through  the  village  paper,  and  not  the  man 
and  woman  concerned,  that  "Mr.  Ross  Blake,  the 
engineer  in  charge  of  the  construction  of  the  new  res- 
ervoir, believing  in  the  future  of  the  real-  estate  boom  in 
Woodridge  (we  didn  't  know  there  was  one),  has  recently 
purchased  the  Amos  Opie  farm  as  an  investment,  the 
deed  being  to-day  recorded  in  the  town  house.  He  has 
already  leased  it  for  a  young  ladies'  seminary,  pending 
its  remodelling,  for  which  he  himself  is  drawing  the 
plans." 

Dear  Man  from  Everywhere!  much  as  I  like  Maria, 
I  think  he  would  be  the  more  restful  neighbour  of  the 
two.  What  a  complete  couple  they  might  have  made, 
but  that  is  a  bit  of  drift  thought  that  I  have  put  out 
of  my  head,  for  if  any  two  people  ever  had  a  chance 
this  summer  to  fall  in  love  if  they  had  the  capacity, 


370  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

it  was  Maria  and  The  Man,  and  the  strange  part  of  it 
is  that  as  far  as  may  be  known  neither  is  nourishing 
the  sentiment  of  a  melancholy  past  and  no  other 
present  man  or  woman  stands  between;  perhaps  it  is 
some  uncanny  Opal  spell  that  stays  them.  Yet  even 
as  it  is,  in  this  farm  restoration  both  are  unconsciously 
preparing  to  take  a  peep  into  Pandora's  Chest  full  of 
the  unknown,  so  let  us  hope  the  gods  are  willing. 

Hallowe'en.  The  Infant  and  Anastasia,  her  memo- 
ries revived  by  Larry's  voluble  and  personally 
adapted  folk-lore,  are  preparing  all  sorts  of  traps  and 
feasts  for  good  luck  and  fairies,  while  Lady  Lazy  is 
content  to  look  at  the  log  fire  and  plan  for  putting 
the  garden  to  sleep.  Yesterday  I  finished  taking 
up  my  collection  of  peonies,  Iris,  and  hardy  chrysan- 
themums that  had  been  "promised"  at  various  farm 
gardens  beyond  the  river  woods,  and  duly  cleared  off 
my  indebtednesses  for  the  same  with  a  varied  assort- 
ment of  articles  ranging  from  gladioli  bulbs,  which 
seem  to  multiply  by  cube  root  here,  to  a  pair  of  curl- 
ing tongs,  an  article  long  coveted  by  a  simple-minded 
woman  of  more  than  middle  age,  for  the  resuscita- 
tion of  her  Sunday  front  locks,  and  which  though 
willing  to  acquire  by  barter  she,  as  a  deacon's  wife, 


PANDORA'S  CHEST  371 

had  a  prejudice  against  buying  openly  over  the 
counter. 

Meyer  has  gone,  having  relapsed  into  compara- 
tive cheerfulness  a  few  days  before  his  departure  on 
the  receipt  of  a  bulky  letter  which,  in  spite  of  the  wear 
and  tear  of  travel,  remained  heavily  scented,  coupled 
with  Bart's  assurance  that  he  could  remain  in  America 
another  four  weeks  and  still  be  at  a  certain  Baltic 
town  of  an  unpronounceable  name  in  time  for  Christ- 
mas. 

In  spite  of  heavy  frosts  my  pansies  are  a  daily  cheer, 
but  it  is  really  of  no  use  for  even  the  flowers  of  very 
hardy  plants  to  struggle  on  against  nature's  decree  of 
a  winter  sleeping  time;  the  wild  animals  all  come 
more  or  less  under  its  spell,  and  the  dogs,  the  nearest 
creatures  of  all  to  man,  as  soon  as  snow  covers  the 
ground  and  they  have  their  experience  of  ice- cut  feet, 
drowse  as  near  the  fire  as  possible  and  in  case  of 
a  stove  almost  under  it.  I  wonder  if  nature  did  not 
intend  that  we  also  should  have  at  least  a  half-drowsy 
brooding  time,  instead  of  making  the  cold  season  so 
often  a  period  of  stress  and  strain  and  short  days 
stretched  into  long  nights.  If  so,  we  have  taken  the 
responsibility  of  acting  for  ourselves,  of  flying  in 
nature's  face  in  this  as  in  many  other  ways. 


372  THE  GARDEN,  YOU,  AND  I 

Does  it  ever  seem  to  you  strange  that  our  con- 
trariness began  within  the  year  of  our  legendary 
creation,  when  Eve  came  to  misery  not  by  gazing 
in  a  bonnet  shop,  but  when  innocently  wandering  in 
her  garden,  the  most  beautiful  of  earth  ?  By  which  we 
women  gardeners  should  all  take  warning,  for  though 
the  Tree  of  Life  may  be  found  in  every  garden, 

"  Yet  sin  and  sorrow's  pedigree 
Spring  from  a  garden  and  a  tree." 

December  10.  Snow  a  month  earlier  than  last  year, 
but  we  rejoice  in  it,  for  it  will  keep  the  winds  from  the 
roots  of  the  trees  not  yet  wholly  settled  and  comfort- 
able in  their  new  homes.  The  young  hemlocks  are 
bewitching  in  their  wreaths  and  garlands,  and  one  or 
two  older  trees  give  warmth  to  the  woods  beyond  the 
Opal  Farm  and  sweep  the  low,  snow-covered  meadow, 
that  looks  like  a  crystal  lake,  with  their  feathery 
branches.  The  cedars  were  beautiful  in  the  May 
woods  and  so  are  they  now,  where  I  see  them  through 
the  gap  standing  sentinels  against  the  white  of  the 
brush  lot.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  cannot  have  too 
many  evergreens  any  more  than  we  can  have  too  much 
cheerfulness. 

There  are  no  paths  hi  the  garden  now,  a  hint  that 
our  feet  must  travel  elsewhere  for  a  time,  and  I 


PANDORA'S  CHEST  373 

confess  that  Lady  Lazy  has  not  yet  redeemed  herself, 
and  at  present  likes  her  feet  to  fall  upon  soft  rugs. 
The  Infant's  gray  squirrels,  Punch  and  Judy,  and  the 
persistent  sparrows  have  found  their  way  to  the  house, 
taking  their  daily  rations  from  the  roof  of  the  shed. 
Punch,  stuffed  to  repletion,  has  a  cache  under  the 
old  syringa  bushes,  the  sparrows  seeming  to  escort 
him  in  his  travels  to  and  fro,  but  whether  for  compan- 
ionship or  in  hope  of  gain,  who  can  say? 

The  plans  for  the  remodelling  of  Opal  Farm-house 
are  really  very  attractive  and  yet  it  will  be  delight- 
fully simple  to  care  for.  Maria  and  The  Man  have 
agreed  better  about  them  than  over  anything  I  have 
ever  heard  them  discuss ;  but  then,  as  it  is  purely  a 
business  arrangement,  I  suppose  that  Maria  feels  free 
from  her  usual  pernickety  restraint. 

We  surmise  that  either  she  has  much  more  laid 
by  than  we  supposed  or  she  is  waxing  extrava- 
gant, for  she  has  had  the  opal,  that  The  Man  gave  her 
once  in  exchange  for  an  old  coin,  surrounded  with 
very  good  diamonds  and  set  as  a  ring !  Really  I  never 
before  noticed  what  fine  strong  white  hands  she  has. 

I  shall  ask  Father  Penrose  for  the  Cyclopedia  — 
it  has  a  substantial  sound  that  may  soften  his  suspicion 
that  we  are  not  practical  and  were  not  properly  grieved 
over  the  loss  of  the  hens ! 


XX 

EPILOGUE 

(DICTATED) 

Woodridge,  January  3.  In  the  face  of  circum- 
stances that  prevent  my  holding  the  pen  in  my  own 
hand,  I  am  resolved  that  the  first  chronicle  of  the  New 
Year  shall  be  mine,  —  for  by  me  it  has  sent  The  Gar- 
den, You,  and  I  a  new  member  and  our  own  garden  a 
new  tree,  an  oak  we  hope. 

The  Infant  is  exultant  at  the  evident  and  direct  result 
of  her  dealings  with  the  fairies,  and  keeps  a  plate  of 
astonishing  goodies  by  the  nursery  hearth  fire;  these, 
if  the  fairies  do  not  feast  upon  personally,  are  appre- 
ciated by  their  horses,  the  mice. 

His  name  is  John  Bartram  Penrose,  a  good  one  to 
conjure  with  gardenwise,  though  he  is  no  kin  to  the 
original.  He  has  fresh- air  lungs,  and  if  he  does  not 
wax  strong  of  limb  and  develop  into  a  naturalist  of 
some  sort,  he  cannot  blame  his  parents  or  their  garden 
vacation. 

MARY   PENROSE, 

her  ^  mark. 

374 


'  PUNCH   .   .   .   HAS  A  CACHE   UNDER   THE   OLD   SYRINGA   BUSHES." 


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N       W  WCflO  fe 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


THE  WOMAN  ERRANT 

BEING  SOME  CHAPTERS  FROM  THE  WONDER  BOOK  OF 
BARBARA 

With  Illustrations  by  Will  Crete 
Cloth     1 2  mo    $1.50 


"  The  sociology  of  the  book  is  sound  and  clever.  ...  '  The  Woman 
Errant '  is  a  bright,  inspiring  book,  and  deserves  to  be  read  by  all  who  have 
wit  enough  to  grasp  ideas  levelled  at  shams  and  follies." 

—  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

"This  clear-visioned  writer,  calmly  surveying  life  from  the  wholesome 
vantage  ground  of  a  modest,  contented  suburban  home,  is  not  merely  enter- 
taining each  year  a  growing  number  of  appreciative  readers,  but  she  is 
inculcating  in  her  own  incisive  way  much  of  that  same  wise  and  simple 
philosophy  of  life  that  forms  the  enduring  charm  of  the  essays  of  Charles 
Wagner." — New  York  Globe  and  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"  Barbara,  whoever  that  delightful  and  gentle  humorist  is,  never  loses 
her  temper  or  becomes  bitter;  the  rapier  glances  in  and  out,  the  light  of 
fancy  playing  upon  its  steel,  but  every  thrust  tells."  —  New  York  Sun. 

"  Barbara  has  a  kindly  humor,  a  racy  way  of  putting  things,  and  occa- 
sionally a  touch  of  unaffected  pathos." — Providence  Journal. 

"  A  mine  of  quaint  fancies  and  unexpected  turns  of  wit." 

—  Chicago  Tribune 

"  Full  of  snap  and  go  and  very  entertaining."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"  Barbara  is  always  fresh  and  delightful,  compelling  the  reader  to  breathe 
the  big  spaces  out  of  doors."  —  New  York  Times. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Q±-QQ  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


People  of  the  Whirlpool 

FROM   THE   EXPERIENCE   BOOK   OF  A 
COMMUTER'S   WIFE 

With  Eight  Full-page  Illustrations 
Cloth  12mo  $1.50 

"  It  cannot  be  that  all  the  life  which  is  grouped  about  the  garden  is 
fiction;  there  must  be  some  background  of  reality  somewhere;  the  story 
is  too  vital,  too  full  of  realism,  too  true  to  the  life  to  be  entirely  a  work  of 
imagination.  .  .  .  The  book  is  delightful  in  several  ways;  its  prose  style 
is  sunny,  optimistic,  thoroughly  happy  in  its  philosophy  of  life,  in  its  wit 
and  humor,  and  the  fidelity  of  its  portraiture.  All  together  it  is  a  most 
charming  volume."  _  Brooklyn  Eagle^ 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just 
perspections  of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people 
and  customs,  and  its  healthy  optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general." 

—  Philadelphia   Telegraph. 

"It  is  peculiar  in  treatment,  very  quaint  in  style,  and  refreshingly 
original  in  every  detail.  ...  It  will  be  thoroughly  liked  by  the  judges  of 
what  is  best."  -Buffalo  Commercial. 

"They  who  have  read  'The  Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife'  know  what 
to  expect  in  this,  '  The  Experience  Book '  of  Jthe  same  delightful  Barbara, 
but  to  the  uninitiated  who  light  upon  the  book  without  preconceived 
'  notions '  of  what  it  is,  it  will  come  with  a  double  note  of  delight." 

—  New  York   Times. 


The   Macmillan   Company 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


BY   THE   SAME  AUTHOR 


THE  GARDEN  OF  A  COMMUTER'S  WIFE 

RECORDED  BY  THE  GARDENER 

With  Eight  Photogravure  Illustrations 

Cloth.     I2mo.     $1.50 


"'The  Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife'  is  a  legend  that  gives  no  hint 
of  the  wit  and  wisdom  and  graceful  phrase  within  its  covers.  The  Com- 
muter's charming  woman  writes  of  her  suburban  garden,  her  original  ser- 
vants, and  various  other  incidents  which  come  in  the  course  of  living  in  a 
thoroughly  human  way.  She  reminds  one  of  Elizabeth  of  '  German  Gar- 
den '  fame  in  more  ways  than  one,  but  being  American  she  is  broader, 
more  versatile  and  humorous,  if  not  also  more  poetic.  It  breathes  an  air 
of  cheery  companionship,  of  flowers,  birds,  all  nature,  and  the  warm 
affection  of  human  friendship.  Its  philosophy  is  wholesome,  unselfish, 
and  kindly,  and  the  Commuter's  Wife,  who  writes  her  own  memoirs,  is 
one  we  would  be  glad  to  number  among  our  friends."  —  Chicago  Post. 

"  By  the  inevitable  action  and  reaction  so  interesting  to  watch,  these 
books  will  undoubtedly  in  their  term  stimulate  many  a  woman  who  pos- 
sesses a  small  plot  of  ground,  the  charms  and  possibilities  of  which  she 
now  only  meagrely  appreciates,  to  '  go  and  do  likewise.'  Which  will  be 
an  excellent  thing  for  the  woman  herself,  as  well  as  for  the  professional 
gardeners  whom  our  new  schools  will  raise  up  to  pull  their  dilettante 
sisters  out  of  bogs."  —  Boston  Budget. 

"In  brief,  the  book  is  delightfully  sketchy  and  chatty,  thoroughly 
feminine  and  entrancing.  The  writer  represents  herself  as  a  doctor's 
daughter  in  a  country  town,  who  has  married  an  Englishman,  and  after 
two  years  abroad  has  come  home  to  live.  Both  husband  and  wife  prefer 
the  country  to  the  city,  and  they  make  of  their  modes'  estate  a  mundane 
paradise  of  which  it  is  a  privilege  to  have  a  glimpse.  Surely  it  is  no 
exaggeration  to  characterize  this  as  one  of  the  very  best  books  of  the 
holiday  season  thus  far."  —  Providence  Journal. 

"  It  is  written  with  charm  and  is  more  than  a  mere  treatise  on  what 
may  be  raised  in  the  small  lot  of  the  suburban  resident. 

"  The  author  has  not  only  learned  to  appreciate  nature  from  intimate 
association,  but  has  achieved  unusual  power  of  communicating  these  facts 
to  others.  There  is  something  unusually  attractive  about  the  book." 

—  The  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


By  the  Same  Author 

AT  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  FOX 

By  " BARBARA" 

With  Frontispiece  in  Colors 

Cloth        i2mo        $1.50 


"  Her  little  pictures  of  country  life  are  fragrant  with  a  genuine  love  of 
nature,  and  there  is  fun  as  genuine  in  her  notes  on  rural  character.  A 
travelling  pieman  is  one  of  her  most  lovable  personages ;  another  is 
Tatters,  a  dog,  who  is  humanly  winsome  and  wise,  and  will  not  soon  be 
forgotten  by  the  reader  of  this  very  entertaining  book." 

—  New  York  Tribune. 

"...  is"  the  story  of  the  plucky  daughter  of  a  country-bred  New  Yorker 
of  affairs  and  a  Brooke  of  Virginia,  ...  a  lovable  girl,  full  of  both  romance 
and  common  sense.  ...  It  is  an  admirable  book  for  the  summer  season 
or  any  other."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"This  story  possesses,  in  common  with  its  delightful  predecessors,  'The 
Garden  of  a  Commuter's  Wife'  and  'The  People  of  the  Whirlpool,'  the 
charm  of  freshness,  genuine  love  of  a  wholesome  and  simple  life,  keen 
appreciation  of  the  joys  of  out-of-doors,  a  gentle  and  sound  sense  of  humor, 
and  true  perception  of  character."  —  Louisville  Times. 

"  In  skilful  portrayal  of  types,  in  sharp  but  smiling  shafts  at  the  foibles 
and  artificialities  of  modern  society,  in  a  rarely  delicate  humor,  in  a  whole- 
some love  of  out-of-doors  and  all  God's  creatures,  human  or  unhuman,  and, 
above  all,  in  the  gentle  preachment  of  a  very  sane  and  beautiful  philosophy, 
—  in  all  the  qualities,  in  short,  that  make  the  charm  and  excellence  of 
'  Barbara's '  other  books,  her  new  one  will  not  be  found  wanting." 

—  New  York  Globe. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
64-66  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 


H-55 
0)8 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


if* 


